


Before This Dance Is Through

by Mithranqueer



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Crossdressing, Lapdance, M/M, Nude Photos, Slow Burn, Smut, Stripper George, Stripper Paul, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:47:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 54,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25507714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithranqueer/pseuds/Mithranqueer
Summary: Ringo's being going through a dry spell for the last year or so and when he regretfully tells his best friend John, he insists on taking them to an all-male strip club for some "fun". Ringo isn't sure whether it's the alcohol, his desperation or a mixture of the two but he thinks he might be falling in love with a stripper.
Relationships: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Comments: 107
Kudos: 139





	1. Dry Spell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John takes a reluctant Ringo to a strip club.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after much debate about what to write my next fic about i decided on this sinful mess please dont judge me too much but quarantine has been hard (pun intended) 
> 
> honestly i just wanted to write something far smuttier than my last one and i have no idea where im going with it but just join me on this raunchy ride
> 
> believe or not i have never been to a strip club so forgive me if my ignorance is showing
> 
> this is a lil inspired by the beatles fic we all know and love: Ten Minutes by ChutJeDors and ImagineBeatles as much as my writing ability is nowhere near theirs i cant not acknowledge them

It had been over a year since Ringo had sex, but the only thing worse than that was telling his best friend John drunkenly one night. John never seemed to have any trouble finding someone to sleep with, it was like second nature to him, but still neither of them seemed to be making any progress in the relationship department. Ringo had never been a massive fan of one night stands, but at this point he'd take anything he could get; John on the other hand seemed to prefer them, the amount of notifications he got on his phone from Grindr or Tinder, or whatever new app he was trying out, was astounding. In general John was more open - and obvious - about his sexuality, sporting a pin that read 'sword swallower' almost every time they went out. Ringo wasn't ashamed to be gay, that was far from the truth, but he just never seemed to align with the more flamboyant expression that a lot of gay men tended to follow. Despite all this, it didn't stop him from allowing John to drag him out to Pride every year covered in glitter and cheap boas, or to a gay club every other weekend, or in tonight's strange case: a strip club.

The two of them tried to meet up at least once a week to have a catch-up and tonight was one of those nights, it had started with dinner at Ringo's place but ended up - as it often did - at the pub. John was _very_ open about his sex life, Ringo didn't particularly mind but recently it had been bothering him since he had no stories of his own to share. It was difficult to pinpoint exactly why it had been so long, it seemed like in the blink of an eye a few months had turned into over a year. He was just always so busy with work and when he wasn't working he was either sleeping or with John, there was just no room for another person; although his bed did feel incredibly empty. Ringo knew that all it would take would be to follow John's confident lead, to get dressed up - or down - and to seek somebody out in the club, or even try one of his "dating" apps, but as he got older Ringo just didn't feel incredibly comfortable doing that. He had begged John to not drag them out to a club that night, which he begrudgingly agreed to, but it then lead to the dreaded question.

"Well how long has it been since..." John finished the sentence with a raise of his eyebrow.

"Since what?" Ringo chuckled nervously behind his drink.

"Since you had a good shag." John widened his eyes dramatically, stretching his neck forward.

"Erm... Not that long." Ringo mumbled then desperately took a sip of his beer.

"Jesus, _that_ long?" John tutted and leaned back in his chair "Why didn't you tell me? I could've set you up with someone."

"No offence but I'm not massively interested in your 'friends'." Ringo bent his first two fingers to make air quotes.

"There you go again talking about 'interested in', it's just sex Ringo!" John raised his voice a little, a telltale sign he was getting drunk.

"Keep your voice down, _Jesus_." Ringo hissed "I'm just sick of all the meaningless sex, alright?"

"You say meaningless like it's a bad word." John chuckled then sighed when he saw Ringo's disapproving look "Fine, fine. But that doesn't mean we still can't have some fun tonight."

"No, John. I am not in the mood for a club tonight." Ringo said plainly.

"I didn't say anything about a club." John grinned in his signature way, a way that made Ringo panic.

"What then?" Ringo asked cautiously.

"Well..." John began, drawing out the word "There's a little place I've been _frequenting_ that might interest you."

"Out with it, Lennon." Ringo rolled his eyes with a small laugh.

"Just hear me out, okay? Because as soon as I say the word you're instantly gonna say no." John had put his drink down now, meaning he was being 'serious'.

"What word?" Ringo huffed.

"Strip club." John spoke quickly "That's two words but you get my point."

"No." Ringo said simply.

"Come on! Why not?" John whined, reaching his hand forward to pull at Ringo's sleeve.

"Because I don't _want_ to. The last thing I need is some lad giving me a lap dance and I cum like _that_." Ringo clicked his fingers to emphasise his point which made John laugh.

"You're so modest." John giggled "It'll be _fun_ , I swear. If you don't want any meaningless sex or whatever, you may as well go the next extreme." 

"That makes _no_ sense." Ringo was trying not to smile but it was difficult with John.

"Look, you're probably gonna go home tonight and wank to some boring, twinky porno, right? How's it any different to go and watch some beautiful, twinky dancers in real life? I'll tell you how it's different, it's _better_." John had begun pointing his finger with almost every word.

Ringo sat in silence for a moment then burst into laughter "I hate that you know me so well."

"I'm your best friend, it's my _job_. It's also my job to get you out of this rut you've gotten yourself into, and if you won't let me set you up with anyone and I'm guessing you won't let me get you a prostitute..." John paused and looked at Ringo with hopeful eyes.

" _No_." Ringo scoffed.

"Then you have to at least let me take you to this strip club. It's not that seedy, I promise. There's some gorgeous guys there, and I mean _gorgeous_. You don't even need to get a lap dance or anything if you don't want to, we can just sit at the back and drink, just like we're doing now." John retained his hopeful gaze.

Ringo paused once again, screwing up his face slightly in thought then let out a heavy breath "Fine." 

"Really?" John almost gasped.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'm just about drunk enough to go along with this." Ringo laughed "Let's just go now before I change my mind."

The two of them downed what was left in their drinks and headed out into the night. Ringo pulled his coat close to his body as they walked down the street, John leading the way excitedly; Ringo couldn't remember the last time he'd seen him so happy. It was cold enough to justify getting an Uber, but Ringo didn't think he'd enjoy the knowing look on the driver's face when he dropped them off at a strip club. The walk to the gay quarter of the city was a familiar one, it was almost exclusively where John spent his time therefore where Ringo would find himself at the end of most of their nights together. Ringo was aware of a few more 'adult' establishments in this part of town but sometimes it was hard to tell the difference between what was a sex shop and what was merely a gay bar with a raunchy name. It didn't take too long before they'd arrived outside a fairly large building painted all black with neon trimmings around the doors and windows and a few people outside smoking; they passed John a knowing nod which Ringo was hardly surprised by. 

"The Helter Skelter?" Ringo asked as he read the sign, turning to John.

John shrugged his shoulders "It's phallic, I suppose."

The inside looked considerably less questionable than the exterior, but it was also incredibly dark. As they entered one of the bouncers greeted John warmly, and Ringo was certain he'd seen him in the morning at John's at least once or twice. The music was loud to say the least, it probably wasn't any louder than it was at the club but the whole atmosphere made everything seem more claustrophobic. There were two bars that Ringo could see, one near the entrance and one towards the back which gave a better view of the main stage. The scantily dressed men hadn't caught Ringo's eye immediately, though he was consciously trying not to stare, but once he noticed them it was hard to ignore; almost all of the men walking around were shirtless, some of them in nothing but a jockstrap and a bow-tie or a hat - Ringo wasn't sure whether that was meant to be sexy or comical. He suddenly felt very aware of his presence and couldn't feel like he could walk much further than the door, but John was already sauntering in like he owned the place, which he probably wished he did. John turned around when he noticed Ringo wasn't beside him, gave him a frustrated look and hurried back over to his side.

"What's wrong? Cock got your tongue?" John winked but it didn't help Ringo relax in the slightest.

"I should probably go home." Ringo murmured, he didn't feel like he had full control over his mouth.

"Don't be a git, we're here now. Let's just get a drink and _observe_ , okay?" John didn't wait for a response, instead he practically dragged Ringo over to the bar.

The bartender offered John his usual and Ringo ordered the same, not knowing exactly what he was ordering but his brain didn't feel able to process the question.

"How often do you come here?" Ringo asked when the bartender turned around to make their drinks.

"Not as often as I'd like." John was already perusing the crowd.

"But _why_?" Ringo turned his back to the club, feeling unable to look at the spectacle on the main stage.

"I dunno, I just like it. Mixes it up a little. It's an art, you know? But its like... sexy art." John rambled and Ringo couldn't help little out a low chuckle.

"Sexy art? Sometimes I wonder why I'm still friends with you." Ringo mumbled.

The bartender returned with their drinks and the two of them muttered a thanks, Ringo began drinking it desperately to calm his nerves. Out of the corner of his eye he could see John mouthing words to someone across the room, as much as he told himself he didn't want to know what was happening he couldn't help turning in his seat to get a better look. On the other side of the club was a man meeting John's gaze and mouthing back at him, he was holding a tray of drinks and serving a group of men without breaking eye contact. Once the tray was cleared the man gave a smile to the customers then began walking over to the two of them. He was one of the few men actually wearing a shirt but his bottom half was almost entirely exposed, wearing tight, black shorts and boots with a sleeveless, white shirt with a black bow-tie to match, it was supposed to be some kind of a 'sexy waiter' costume Ringo guessed. He had a very pretty face, Ringo had to admit, with dark hair and large, doe eyes and a fairly slim body; yet the petite appearance he had was counteracted by his body hair, of which there was quite a lot, with his arms and legs covered. Ringo wasn't trying to stare but it was difficult when someone looked so inviting, but the man hadn't given a single glance to Ringo as he walked over, rather his eyes were fixed on John's entirely. 

"Fancy seeing you here." The man spoke, he had quite a soothing voice.

"Haven't scared me off just yet." John grinned but then turned to look at Ringo "Where are my manners? This is my mate, Ringo. It's his first time in a strip club, can you believe it?"

"Virgin, eh?" The man laughed "Well we'll have to make sure you have a good time tonight, won't we?" 

Ringo felt his face getting a little hot with the man looking directly at him, he let out a nervous laugh "I'll probably just stick to drinking."

"Come off it, we're gonna get you a lovely lad." John nudged him playfully then turned back to the man "Who's working tonight?"

"Same old. _Except_ , we do have a newbie that started two weeks ago." The man smiled somewhat devilishly "He moved over from the joint that shut down, what was it called..."

"Honey Pie?" John replied a little too quick.

"That's the one. _Awful_ name." The man chuckled.

"I can agree with that." Ringo spoke after taking a final sip from his drink, signalling to the bartender to get another.

"Well he's up on stage next I think, in a few minutes or so." He gestured to the stage where a man was currently on all fours twerking to a Britney Spears song "Could give you some time alone, Ringo, while I take care of your friend here."

Ringo gulped and looked over to John who had his eyebrows raised suggestively "No harm in looking, I suppose."

"That's the spirit, Rings." John smirked "We'll just finish up our drinks, when the new guy's up I'll come and grab you, yeah?"

"Sure thing, love." The man winked then headed back off into the club.

Ringo had already almost finished his second drink, gripping tightly onto the glass as though it would crush his nerves somehow. John slapped him on the back warmly, ordered a second drink for himself and leaned on the bar so that he could get a view of both Ringo and the rest of the room.

"You two seem to get along." Ringo had tried to sound jokey but the tension in his body was immense.

"Oh yeah, me and Paulie go way back." John chuckled.

"Paulie?" Ringo asked.

"Well his name's Paul but you know me, I love my pet names." John finished the last drop of his first drink.

"Not much of a stripper name is it? _Paul_." Ringo chuckled quietly.

"Well he's a stripper and his name is Paul." John was looking at Ringo a little worriedly "What should he be called?"

"I guess you're right. I just figured it was like porn stars or something." Ringo let out a heavy breath and tried to straighten his back, he'd been huddling over the bar as though it would protect him somehow.

"Well you better not make that mistake again. That'll get you kicked out before you can say 'latex jockstrap'." John picked up his second drink now.

"Why do I feel like you're doing this to punish me?" Ringo groaned.

"Loosen up, Ringo. Let's get another drink in you and we'll see how you feel, yeah? I'll stay with you if you want but I figured you might be a little more comfortable without me hovering around." John motioned to the bartender for another round "All you have to do is sit back and watch the bloke dance, is that so hard?"

" _It_ might be hard, that's the problem." Ringo laughed, he felt himself loosening up a little.

"I wouldn't worry about that, they probably take it as a compliment. Hell if I was grinding on a bloke's lap and he didn't even get a _semi_ I think I'd slap him one." John patted Ringo on the back again, a lot harder than he probably intended.

John continued trying to get Ringo to relax for the next several minutes and it seemed to work, although Ringo felt the alcohol was the main factor, and it wasn't too long before the stage was emptied and a voice came over the club announcing the next dancer: Spike.

"Spike?" Ringo asked with a giggle.

"Oh so Paul isn't stripper enough but Spike is _too_ stripper? Make your mind up." John got up from his seat and motioned Ringo to do the same.

They headed over to the seats that surrounded the stage, Ringo wanted to sit at the back but John shoved him forward to the front. Before he vanished off in search of Paul, he reached into his pocket and fished out a couple crumpled notes which he then thrust into Ringo's hand. Ringo stood there dumbfounded for a moment before music began playing and he quickly sat down in a chair, he regretted how close he was to the stage immediately but he figured it might look a little insulting if he moved now. He tried looking around for John but he was nowhere to be seen, neither was Paul for that matter.

Ringo recognised the song quickly, it was 'Fame' by David Bowie and it was some consolation that the music was at least familiar but then he began to worry whether he'd be able to listen to it again without this memory coming back to his mind. He didn't have very long to worry because someone was walking out onto the stage, and Ringo swore for a moment his heart stopped. Spike, although Ringo seriously doubted that was his real name, was absolutely _gorgeous_. He came out in a mesh vest and purple baggy trousers, his dark hair was slightly coiffed - an attempt to give him a Bowie look - and his face was insanely chiselled. Ringo's mouth dried up almost immediately and he cursed himself for not bringing a drink with him, a part of him wanted to get up from his seat and rush out of the club but an even larger part was desperate to stay, to _watch_.

Spike made his way slowly down the stage, swaying his supple hips as he walked, a serious and sultry look in his eyes. There was a fixed pole in the middle of the stage which he gradually moved over to, standing in front of it then lowering himself down to the ground with his legs spread wide with one hand ghosting over the pole and the other running down the inside of his thigh. Some of the other men in the club had already begun whooping, yet Ringo didn't feel like he could make a noise if he tried. Spike then began thrusting his hips slowly into the air, rolling them in a circle with his mouth slightly hanging open. He lowered himself onto the stage floor so that he was balancing on his knees, he straightened his back and ran the hand that had previously been gripping the pole to run over his chest. His slender fingers began toying with the fabric at the bottom of the vest, his other hand mirroring the first, and he raised his eyebrows just slightly in the direction of a group of men who called out incoherently to answer the unasked question. Then the vest was peeled off his body agonisingly slow revealing a toned chest beneath it, and Ringo suddenly realised he'd been clenching his fists tight enough that his nails had begun to leave marks.

Ringo swore he was feeling light headed, his vision felt a little fuzzy and his heart was racing. Spike had continued moving his hips to the beat of the song, one hand roaming over his now bare chest. Much to Ringo's dismay he began walking off the stage into the crowd, first heading over to the group of men Paul had been serving earlier to collect the notes they were eagerly waving in the air. There weren't too many people in the club, it was a Wednesday night after all, which meant Ringo wasn't as hidden as he'd like to be. When he saw Spike turning his gaze to look at him, a bank note currently between his teeth, he felt his heart drop. Both of his fists were clenched in his lap and his heartbeat sounded almost as loud as the music, but worst of all he was _hard_. Shit. If it would've looked rude to have moved seats earlier, it would have been like a spit in the face if he got up and walked away now. 

Ringo wasn't sure if Spike could see the intense panic he was currently experiencing, perhaps that was the very reason he was coming over. He continued to sway his hips as he walked, his brooding eyes fixed unshakably onto Ringo's, a small smirk on his thin lips. Spike looked Ringo up and down, his tongue darting over what looked like rather sharp teeth, before he turned his back on him and began lowering himself down onto his lap. No contact was made, instead he hovered painfully close over Ringo's growing erection, grinding his hips with his hands sliding over the silky material of his trousers. It was torture, but just about bearable. Ringo was gripping the arms of the chair ridiculously tightly, he wondered if he'd be able to break them through the power of his panic alone. He focused on controlling his breathing, but it was increasingly difficult when Spike looked over his bare shoulder and licked his top lip sinfully. _You can do this_ , Ringo kept telling himself, and he almost believed it until things got much, much worse. There was a ripping sound and Ringo felt all the air leaving his body, he couldn't even prevent the rather pathetic moan that left his lips; Spike had torn off his trousers in one fluid motion, throwing the discarded fabric onto the stage, revealing nothing but a jockstrap underneath.

The group of men began cheering again, one of them urging Spike to come back over but he didn't pay them much attention. Instead he turned back around to face Ringo which only made things more difficult - _hard_ would've been a better word to use - with Spike's bulge almost eye-level with Ringo and his sharp face looking down at him. Ringo looked up to meet his dark eyes and felt like he could've orgasmed then and there from a single touch but before he could get too used to the sight, Spike was returning to the stage. Ringo had no idea how a single song had managed to last this long, but apparently it had, and he was almost certain he couldn't survive another minute of it. When Spike had begun wrapping himself around the pole, Ringo forced himself to get up from the seat and find the nearest bathroom to cool off. While a part of him was still worried about appearing disrespectful, he wasn't quite prepared to be reduced to a pile of sweat and moans in front of all those people. 

In the bathroom, which was thankfully empty, he splashed his face with cold water and stared at his face hard in the mirror to gain some sense of normality. Part of him wished he'd be able to hide in there until the club closed but unfortunately that wasn't a valid option. He took a few deep breaths and headed out of the bathroom, making a beeline to the bar near the entrance and ordering a drink immediately. Spike was still on stage dancing to another Bowie number, but Ringo forced himself not to look. Two drinks later and Ringo felt an all-too-familiar slap on his back as John reappeared into his sight.

"What you doing sulking over here?" John asked, he had a very satisfied grin on his face "You're missing the show!"

"Fuck you." Ringo chuckled, the glass in his hand was almost empty.

"What? Why?" John scoffed.

"Look at him, he almost killed me!" Ringo gestured drunkenly over to the stage.

"Jesus, I'll be honest I didn't expect him to look like _that_." John snickered "You can't tell me you didn't enjoy it."

"A little too much, if I'm honest." Ringo sighed "But right now I'd love to go home and have a very, _very_ cold shower."

"You sure I can't tempt you to a private dance?" John nudged him.

"No." Ringo said firmly, but his speech was a little slurred "Home, _now_."

"Fine, suit yourself." John groaned "Did you at least give him some money?"

Ringo paused for a moment then reached into his pocket, pulling out the same notes John had given him "Oh, suppose I forgot. My mind was a little preoccupied."

"Who raised you?" John scoffed, snatching the money back "The money's not for you."

"You do owe m-" Ringo began but John cut him off.

"Don't start with that." John was looking out across the room again and motioned for Paul to come over.

"You want another one already?" Paul purred after hurrying over and looking down at the money.

"Not tonight, love." John winked "Can you pass this on to the new fella, Ringo was too busy trying not to cream his pants that he forgot to tip him."

Paul looked over at Ringo with a smug smile "Enjoyed the show then?"

"Depends on your definition of 'enjoyed'." Ringo mumbled into his drink.

"I'll make sure it gets to him." Paul swore as he took the notes from John and tucked them into the waistband of his shorts, Ringo debated how hygienic that was, then disappeared into the club once again.

There was a silence between the two of them for a while before John began to laugh for no real reason, and Ringo couldn't prevent the contagious nature of it, so the two of them sat laughing at the bar for a few minutes. When the silence fell again, Ringo was the first to speak.

"Now can we go home, _please_?" Ringo urged, discarding his empty glass on the bar.

"Fine, fine. Thanks for coming with me tonight, and more importantly: you're welcome." John got up from his seat and Ringo sluggishly followed him.

"For what?" Ringo asked.

"For giving you something new to wank about." John giggled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed! this ended being a lot more fun to write than i anticipated so hopefully ill continue to enjoy writing it
> 
> please please let me know what you think i really want to improve as much as possible so any criticism is welcome!
> 
> and yes george is going by spike like he went by spike wilbury when he was in the traveling wilburys i thought itd be fun
> 
> as always i hope everyone is staying as happy and healthy as possible in these scary scary times! ive been stuck in my house for 4 months at this point and im dearly missing my boyfriend so i very much feel like ringo in this chapter


	2. Repeat Offender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John asks Ringo to accompany him back to The Helter Skelter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i finished this at 2am so i apologise for any major mistakes please let me know so i can fix them!

Ringo was just about to get into bed when a notification rang out from his phone, it was charging on the other side of the room because that was the only way he could get himself out of bed in the morning. It was almost 2 o'clock in the morning which meant the text could only be from one person.

_you up???_

This was far from the first of these texts that Ringo had received from John, they were almost a weekly occurrence by this point but more often than not Ringo had already fallen asleep.

**was just about to go to bed. why?**

_do you have work tomorrow????_

**not until 12  
** **do you?**

_fuck off_

John was a writer, a poet more than anything, which meant that he was always working which _really_ meant that he was never working. Ringo was a drum teacher, had been for almost 7 years at this point, which wasn't as exciting as it sounded; he mostly worked for rich families who had a child who was trying to do something edgy or was brought into schools for one of those strange activity days. Drumming was Ringo's passion and while he was glad that he was able to earn money doing something he loved, he dearly wished he was able to drum for himself rather than spending several hours a week just trying to get a kid to hold the sticks correctly.

 _i was about to take a little ride down the helter skelter  
_ _care to join me ;)_

Ringo stared down at his phone for a moment. It had been over a week since John had dragged him out to that strip club, and while he'd like to say that he'd forgotten about the whole thing it was far from the truth. The sight of Spike dancing on that stage had plagued his memory almost every night since, leading to more than one occasion of late-night indulgence. Ringo had felt guilty touching himself thinking about the other man, but he couldn't pinpoint the reason; he supposed it must've been the guilt he'd felt when watching him dance, and the shame that followed from having to run away into the bathroom like a scared, little kid. His thumbs were frozen in place hovering above his phone screen while his mind was racing. The sensible part of his brain told him to just go to bed, if he indulged this desire tonight it would make the last time more than a one-off and he wasn't sure he was prepared to accept that. Yet the deeper part of his mind, the one he often tried to ignore, urged him to go back just for the opportunity to see Spike again - after all, the current wank material he was providing was getting a little stale.

_have you fallen asleep you twat_

**no no im still here**

_well do you wanna come or not?? i can pick you up_

**are you sober?**

_mostly_

**mostly?**

_fuck sake  
_ _ARE YOU COMING OR NOT_

**fine  
but ill drive**

_whatever makes you happy_

As much as he wouldn't like to admit it, Ringo spent a ridiculous amount of time - by his standards - choosing what to wear. Even though he knew the club was dangerously dark, and even though what he wore shouldn't really matter, that voice in the back of his mind told him to look nice for _him_. For the stripper he'd seen for about 5 minutes, the stripper whose real name he didn't even know, who probably didn't even remember Ringo in the slightest. He'd tried his best to not read too far into the obsession his brain seemed to have with Spike - trying to separate himself from his thoughts as though they were two separate beings had been a vital step in this - but as he stood in front of his mirror comparing two near identical jumpers, he supposed he wasn't going to be able to ignore it for much longer. His heart even felt heavy at the thought that Spike might be working tonight; he couldn't tell if it was just a strange fixation that his desperation had conjured up but the only thing he knew for certain was that he wanted to see him again.

Ringo arrived at John's place later than he would've liked but when the front door was opened to revealed a very ruffled, _very_ drunk man, Ringo figured John wouldn't have noticed how long he'd been. 

" _Mostly_ sober?" Ringo scoffed at the sight of him, his cheeks rosy and a satisfied smile spread across his lips.

"You're not my mum and you're not the police, so fuck off." John was leaning against the door-frame, Ringo supposed partly for support and partly to look cool.

It was a common occurrence for John to get like this, far more common than Ringo would've liked. John drank a lot, at first Ringo figured it was just something everyone did when they got old enough to drink with almost no consequences, then as it continued he tried to explain it away as just something artists did. Years had passed since Ringo had first noticed it and nothing had really changed, it had gotten worse if anything, but there was nothing he really felt he could do. He debated whether he should cancel the plan altogether, to insist that John stayed home and got some sleep, but things were never really that simple. He was almost certain that if he refused to drive them, John would only find another way. He'd tried multiple things over the years: dragging him along to AA meetings, swearing to give up alcohol alongside him, even refusing to hang out with him if he'd been drinking, but nothing seemed to work. John had been through a lot, still _was_ going through a lot, so Ringo figured the best thing he could do was simply to be there for John, it was both the most and least he could do.

Before they headed out Ringo at least managed to convince John to eat some leftover Chinese food he had in the fridge in an attempt to soak up the alcohol somewhat - and to ensure he'd had at least one semi-decent meal that day. They then slid into Ringo's car, it was a little beaten up but it served its purpose, and drove off to the place Ringo was almost certain would be the death of him. It was a Saturday so unsurprisingly the club was a great deal busier than it had been last time, there were several small groups of people smoking outside, some of them clearly workers and how they weren't risking getting frostbite Ringo didn't know. Any hopes of John sobering up a little on the journey there were dashed when he immediately hurried over to the bar as soon as they walked in the door. Ringo tried to stick to his side as best he could, his nervousness from the first time felt like it had tripled with how busy the place was now, so he aimed to keep in John's gravitational pull as much as possible. The music seemed louder but Ringo was certain that was just his imagination. They had to elbow their way to the front of the bar just to get noticed, luckily John had no qualms doing it, which resulted in a few glares from the other customers.

With their drinks in hand they couldn't sit - or hide as Ringo saw it - at the bar like they had done last time, instead they moved further into the club in search for a place to sit. There was a booth near the bathroom that was empty, for obvious reasons, which Ringo pulled them towards desperately. Maybe this was a bad idea. What was he really expecting after all? At most he'd catch another glimpse of Spike, almost have a heart-attack then have to run home less than ten minutes later. Anxiety began nibbling away at his mind, it had a nasty habit of doing that, and the claustrophobic atmosphere wasn't helping. John seemed right at home, as he did almost anywhere, craning his neck between people in search for someone.

"Looking for your Paulie?" Ringo asked in an eager attempt to calm his nerves.

"He's hardly mine." John chuckled, not turning to look at Ringo but continuing his search "Might not even be working tonight."

"Don't you have like his schedule or something?" Ringo sipped his drink.

"That'd be making things a little _too_ official. Not really my style." John sat back in his seat with a small huff, clearly he didn't find what he was looking for.

From where they were sitting they had a fairly obstructed view of the stage but from what little Ringo could gather he wasn't too interested: a muscular man dressed as a policeman was gradually getting undressed while making crude use of a prop baton. 

"Any sign of your guy?" John shouted to be heard over the music and it made Ringo jump.

Ringo paused for a moment looking into John's eyes, he considered playing dumb but decided there was no use "Afraid not. Maybe he's not working tonight either."

"That'd be some rotten luck." John clicked his tongue in his mouth "Let's check the back."

"The back?" Ringo raised an eyebrow "That sounds unbelievably dodgy."

"It's not! Well..." John broke his sentence with a laugh "It's just where they do the more 'alternative' stuff, you know?"

"No I _don't_ know, but I suppose I'm gonna find out." Ringo chuckled rather weakly.

John raised his glass in the air a little and Ringo clinked his own against it, they downed the remainder of their drinks and slammed the glasses down on the table unnecessarily hard. John then led them around the edge of the stage, they managed to get another drink at the second bar before they headed down a suspiciously narrow set of stairs which led to an even darker corridor. They then passed through a squeaky door into a small room, barely lit excluding a spotlight focused on a stage at the other end. There were several people scattered across the limited space, a few resting against a makeshift bar which consisted of planks of wood connected to the walls and the rest sat to face the stage.

And there he was. Spike was sat on a stool onstage with an acoustic guitar in his lap and absolutely nothing else. It wasn't a sight Ringo had been prepared for, as much as the erotic gyrating and tear-away clothing had been a shock to his system this was completely different. 

Ringo stopped in his tracks when he computed the sight: his pale, lean body curled up around the guitar that he was playing beautifully. His hair wasn't coiffed this time, rather it fell down across his sharp face in waves with faint curls. John turned around when he'd noticed Ringo's absence beside him, a sly grin curled on his face as he grabbed Ringo's arm and pulled him down to the front where they sat.

"What did I tell you?" John whispered "Sexy art."

Spike didn't seem to notice them despite how close they were, he seemed completely immersed in the music he was playing. Ringo hadn't recognised the song at first, perhaps he'd been to busy focusing on other things, but now he could tell it was 'Heaven' by Talking Heads; he made a happy note in his mind that it seemed like the two of them had a somewhat similar music taste, although he couldn't really admit that such a thing shouldn't matter. Looking around at the other customers, it looked like they were mostly taking refuge from the chaos of the main room, many of them resting their heads against the bar for some comfort and the others bordering on unconscious. 

Somehow this occasion made Ringo feel even more nervous, even though their previous encounter had been extremely closer and inherently sexual, it was more personal therefore way more uncomfortable. He could hear his voice now, another piece of the puzzle he was shamefully building in his mind, and it was beautiful. It was a little husky but still gentle, an accent poking through in places. Ringo could get a better look at his face now: the dark eyelashes, the hints of hair between his two eyebrows and sharp canine teeth protruding from his open mouth. His eyes focused on the slender fingers playing the guitar strings, veins showing underneath the skin. Ringo felt like he was watching something very private, as if Spike was completely unaware of everyone's presence and could see nothing but his guitar. A quick way to Ringo's heart was through music and it was looking like Spike had bought a first-class ticket.

Ringo hadn't even noticed that the song had ended at first, not until John began clapping and cheering loudly in his ear. Spike seemed similarly out of it, the sudden sound of John snapping his attention away from the music and he gave a small smile in response. They seemed like completely different people: the strutting, confident man from a week ago and the soft, vulnerable one in front of them now. Sparse claps followed shortly after John's, the lack of energy caused by alcohol wearing off was very evident.

"You're pretty good." John almost shouted, Ringo wasn't sure if it was because he was drunk or he still hadn't adjusted from the other room.

"Thanks." Spike replied, his fingers still wrapped around the neck of the guitar "Any requests?"

Ringo had thought his singing voice was beautiful, but the way he spoke somehow had even more of an effect on him. The accent was thicker now and judging by how such a small amount of words could excite him so much, Ringo knew he was in trouble. 

"I dunno... What do you think Ringo?" John nudged his friend beside him, embarrassingly emphasising his name which just about managed to shake Ringo from the daze he was falling into.

"Oh, er-" Ringo stammered for a second, Spike looking right at him wasn't helping his nerves in the slightest "Know any Bob Dylan?"

Spike laughed at this and for a moment Ringo cursed himself but before he could chastise himself too harshly, Spike smiled again and spoke "He's one of my favourites."

John nudged Ringo again but he wasn't paying enough attention to him to get embarrassed. He was far too focused on how Spike's fingers began to play the guitar once more, the way his lips moved over his teeth and how his bare feet tapped against the footrest of the stool as he began singing 'Just Like a Woman'. Once again he seemed to disappear into the music which Ringo was very grateful for, for if his eyes began to wander and met his unfaltering gaze he was certain he wouldn't be able to take it. For the majority of the song Ringo had completely forgotten his surroundings, the faint pulse of the loud music from upstairs or the drooling men strewn about the room, he'd even forgotten that Spike was naked while he played. John seemed similarly impressed, although he was considerably more inebriated than Ringo was, and he could see John passing him a few sideways glances during the song.

When the song ended John enthusiastically applauded once more, Ringo followed suit with a slight delay as he found his mind shutting off everything around him. Spike looked down at the two of them with a smile, shuffled in the stool then stood up.

"Well that's all from me." He spoke "Thanks for listening." The words were directed purely at John and Ringo, while there were others who appeared to be barely listening in the back nobody else seemed to be paying much attention.

"Wait!" John called out, startling both Spike and Ringo "Are you done for the night?"

Spike chuckled softly "No, they're gonna close this room in a little bit though, so you might wanna clear out."

"Will you give my friend a private dance?" John asked and now it was Ringo's turn to nudge him.

"Not dressed like this I can't." Spike gestured with his free hand to his nakedness, his guitar was the only thing upholding his modesty.

Ringo was glaring at John now, who only gave him a quick glance before returning his attention back to Spike "How about we come find you upstairs in a few minutes?"

"Fine by me." Spike replied and turned his gaze to Ringo "But your friend doesn't seem too keen."

He didn't give either of them time to protest, which was probably for the best because Ringo was having trouble articulating any coherent thoughts, as he turned his back and walked off the stage. Ringo fought the urge to not look at his arse as he left, and failed entirely. John giggled at the sight which broke Ringo's absentmindedness. The nudge evolved into a harder shove which only intensified John's laughter.

"I _hate_ you." Ringo hissed but he couldn't stop the laughter from breaking through.

"What did I do?" John held his hands up helplessly and Ringo gave him another shove which rocked the chair sideways.

A bouncer walked into the room at the moment, calling for everyone to head back upstairs; Ringo envied the unconscious drunkards that were unable to return to the main room. John's laughter didn't subside the entire time they made their way up the stairs, only being silenced when he took a sip of his newly ordered drink. The room had thinned out a little, Ringo supposed the closing of downstairs only signalled that most people were going to start heading home now, but there were clearly many people who were aiming to stay as long as they possibly could. They managed to get two seats at the bar which allowed Ringo to look amongst the crowd nervously for any sight of Spike.

"What are you so worried about?" John asked, leaning his elbow on the counter.

"Honestly I don't know." Ringo chuckled "It's a bit pathetic, huh?"

"You said it, not me." John grinned "No, no it's just strange. I know you're not the world's biggest slut but you're no prude either."

"I don't think it's a prude thing." Ringo suggested.

"Then what?" John pried, he ran his finger around the rim of his glass.

"It's just _him_." Ringo lowered his voice a little.

"Well shit. Ringo's in love with a stripper." John matched Ringo's volume but enunciated the words enough that he may as well have been shouting.

"Shut up." Ringo shook his head "You're one to talk."

" _Don't_ bring Paulie into this, that's a strictly professional relationship." John pointed his finger in Ringo's face which made him laugh. "This isn't about me anyway, it's about _you_. I'm not leaving here until you get that dance."

"You might be waiting a while then." Ringo said a little sadly.

"Nope, I _refuse_. You'll thank me later, I swear to it." John had moved his hand to Ringo's shoulder now.

"I'm just scared." Ringo mumbled.

"Of what? Ringo, these people have put up with the weirdest, creepiest fucks you can imagine. He'll probably be over the moon that you don't look like you belong on a register." John shook Ringo lightly, forcing him to look up at him.

Ringo let out a huff "Fine, if it'll shut you up."

"Sure if that's the line you wanna go with." John chuckled "You want it Ringo, stop denying yourself the pleasure. Be more like me."

"I dunno if I wanna take it _that_ far." Ringo looked out amongst the room again and caught sight of a familiar face.

John followed Ringo's line of sight and beamed when he spotted Spike "Come on then, time to pop your cherry."

" _Please_ don't put it like that." Ringo rolled his eyes as John pulled him up from his seat.

It wasn't really nervousness he was feeling, it was difficult to pinpoint exactly what it was. Ringo knew that he if he didn't want to this then he didn't have to, it would've been as simple as that, but he _did_ want to. It was probably exactly how much he wanted it that scared him. Like the feeling that happens right before getting up on stage or before revealing good news to a loved one: excitement so intense it can turn into sickness. And Ringo was excited; he was very, _very_ excited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i started this fic with the intention of shameless smut but here i go again with the angst and the fluff i just cant help it
> 
> i hope you guys enjoyed! im still not entirely sure what direction i wanna take this in so please let me know what you think or if you have any suggestions!
> 
> i kept thinking about that scene in forrest gump where jenny plays the guitar naked and i thought it might be a little strange but then i remembered george in the ding dong music video and i just had to do it
> 
> as always i hope youre all doing well! everything is slowly going back to normal in the UK despite everything still being an absolute MESS so im gonna keep hiding out in my house reading and writing (i only hope things are going better wherever you guys are ❤️)


	3. Privacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike gives Ringo a private dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont have much else to say other than im SORRY

John had hurried towards Spike with Ringo tailing behind him somewhat reluctantly, the money already gripped tightly in his hand - how much John had spent at this place Ringo didn't want to know. Spike had changed from his earlier outfit, although being completely nude couldn't really be classed as an outfit, into the tight black shorts that most of the 'waiters' were wearing with purple suspenders stretching across his bare chest and over-the-knee leather boots. Ringo took a sharp inhale at the sight, his eyes following every curve and sharp edge of Spike's body. He was almost hairless, quite the contrast to Paul's body hair, and the smoothness of his skin spilled perfectly into the shorts. Ringo wished he could've continued staring at him from a safe distance but before long John was whispering into Spike's ear and passing the money into his hand. Spike then looked over to Ringo and gave him a small grin which already made Ringo's stomach stir, this wasn't a good start at all, and after that he began leading Ringo to one of the corners of the club where many curtained sections sat. As Ringo passed John, he gave him an encouraging slap on the back which only made him feel all the more awkward.

It was difficult not to watch the sway of Spike's hips as he walked, the way his arse moved in the painfully tight fabric which couldn't have been very comfortable. Spike hadn't said a word to him, just smiled and beckoned Ringo with his finger then began to walk. Were they supposed to talk? Ringo felt himself stressing over the strangest things as he was willingly led away into that dark corner. He started to worry about how he looked and his eyes darted around in search of a mirror but he couldn't find any; unsurprisingly the last thing the majority of the sleazy guys here wanted to see was their own depressed face looking back at them.

Once they arrived at the partition of one of the empty spaces Spike turned slowly and ran his hand up the velvety material of the curtain and tilted his head to signal Ringo to step inside. It wasn't the most normal sequence of events Ringo had experienced, as Spike closed the curtain behind him and the only light left was the dim glow of pink strips of neon light. Spike looked even more beautiful in the low light, the shadows on his gaunt face and tracing over his bone and muscle made him look almost otherworldly.

There was a fixed pole in the centre with plush seating surrounding it, coloured pink to match. Ringo felt himself stumbling as he walked, he'd like to say it was due to the relative darkness but he knew it was his nerves. The silence was bordering on deafening, the low thumping of the music from the main room seemed to have been replaced by the sound of his heartbeat in his ears. Why was he so nervous? It was just like John said, he just had to watch him dance. He didn't just have to, he _wanted_ to, very much so. Ringo took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment as he internally ordered himself to calm down and to enjoy himself. Opening his eyes to see Spike looking right back at him expectantly didn't set him off at the best start, but if he couldn't handle eye contact he supposed he might as well get out of there before anything actually started happening.

Ringo sat himself down in the space closest to the exit, he didn't want to look rude but he figured it was best to be prepared if there was a repeat of what happened the last time he'd seen Spike dance.

"I don't bite." Spike broke the silence "I'd have to charge _a lot_ more for that." He punctuated his sentence with a grin which revealed his sharp teeth that looked extremely fit for that purpose.

Ringo laughed nervously in response, he was gripping the fabric of his trousers "Your, erm- Your guitar playing was really great. The singing too." He found himself talking without thinking, like someone trying to remove the awkwardness in a lift, and he would've cringed in embarrassment but managed to suppress it.

"Oh. Thank you." Spike was stood at the farthest corner fiddling with a battered phone which looked like it was plugged into the speakers "You seem like you know your music, anything in particular you wanna hear?"

Suddenly Ringo had forgotten the name of every song he'd ever listened to in his entire life "No, no you can pick." He paused between almost every word and he cursed himself for appearing so nervous.

"You don't come to places like this often, do you?" Spike laughed quietly and Ringo only hoped he was laughing with him rather than _at_ him.

"What gave it away?" Ringo matched his laugh and it helped ease the nerves somewhat.

Spike didn't respond, instead he put the phone down as 'Love My Way' by The Psychedelic Furs began to play. Shit, this was it. All the anxiety that Ringo had lost in those few seconds came back in abundance as Spike began to walk back over to him, a predatory look in his eyes.

"So where do you want me?" His voice had lowered a little, the huskiness in it coming out more "The pole, or your lap?" He paused in the middle of the sentence and Ringo struggled to swallow.

Ringo felt like someone had just asked him how he wanted to die: painfully or _very_ painfully. The pole would give a considerable amount of distance between them but that somehow made it worse, he'd be very aware of his presence sitting alone in that chair very visible to Spike. Yet with a lap dance he was risking a repetition of his previous fleeing escapade, but Ringo couldn't deny he'd love to see that look Spike had given him: the devilish and sultry glance over his shoulder.

His mouth felt too dry to speak but he managed to squeak out "Lap, please."

Please? Was he a child asking if he could stay up past his bedtime? He cursed himself once again, he wondered how many times he'd done that since he walked in here. Spike let out another quiet chuckle as he closed the space between them. Ringo braced himself to be completely undone, which was probably a little contradictory but he was in far from the right state of mind right now. The music was barely audible over the pounding of Ringo's heart, for a split second he worried it might actually explode.

Spike looked down at Ringo through his dark lashes, a faint grin still spread across his lips, as he slowly slid himself down so that he was once again hovering above Ringo's lap, he ran his hand down his thigh as he did and the sound of friction against the leather boots made Ringo twitch a little. He began moving his hips slowly, picking up a pace that met with the beat of the music. Ringo's hands were balled in fists at his side, one playing with a button in the seat to ensure he remained at least somewhat conscious. As Spike circled his hips a hair's breadth away from Ringo's groin, he became very quickly aware just how tight those short were, _particularly_ in the front. Was he hard? Surely it'd be a little weird if he was hard, or maybe it'd be weirder if he wasn't. Either way he couldn't stop looking there, at _it_. There was a definite bulge in the shorts but with a fit so tight it'd be almost impossible to avoid one, but it looked rather _present_ to not be erect. Before Ringo could come to a conclusion about this pressing question, his mind was distracted when he felt a dreadfully familiar sensation. Now _he_ was hard. Fuck. How long had be been staring at Spike's cock? It must've been long enough because when Ringo dragged his eyes away to look upwards, Spike was looking at him extremely knowingly. Ringo couldn't help letting out a sound which was a mixture between a laugh and a scoff, one which said ' _Well shit_ '. Ringo imagined he must've looked pretty pathetic in that moment, he wished he could explain that the massive virgin energy he was giving off wasn't accurate in the slightest.

Spike seemed to enjoy it, at least that's what the gleam in his eyes suggested but it was very difficult to tell, it could've just been him figuring out he'd be able to wrap Ringo around his little finger with ease. He began running his hand over his chest, toying with one of the suspenders but as he pulled it down he switched his position so that his back was to Ringo. Ringo knew that this was supposed to be teasing, that he was supposed to expect to be able to drool over his chest only to be presented with his back instead as though it was some sort of downgrade. But it was far from it. Spike slid the second suspender off his shoulder and Ringo watched hungrily as the muscles in his back flexed and his sharp shoulder blade protruded outwards. The fabric fell loose at his sides, hitting against Ringo's legs which were strategically - and painfully - pressed together tightly. Spike then ran his fingers down both suspenders and gripped the ends tightly, spinning it so that they wrapped around his thin wrists. Was this supposed to be some kind of bondage thing? Ringo wasn't entirely sure, but he _was_ sure that he liked it very much. Spike stretched them outwards as far he could, clenching his fists and moving them up to his chest then quickly released his hands so that they snapped back downwards loudly. Ringo swore he gasped but his mind was getting so hazy at this point that he could hardly tell.

One of the suspenders was removed, not without Spike making a show of his slim fingers rubbing over his bare skin or fiddling with the mechanism, then tossed onto the floor behind them. The second came off too but this one wasn't discarded, rather he took hold of each end and turned back to face Ringo. The mischievous smile returned while he placed the fabric behind Ringo's head so that it pressed against the back of his neck, then he tightened his grip on both ends and began thrusting upwards, throwing his head backwards and opening his mouth slightly. This alone was enough to melt Ringo entirely, he was constantly swallowing and licking his lips and his eyes darted all over Spike's body, but then something else happened. It was only for a moment, so quick that Ringo wasn't even certain that it happened, but as Spike rolled his hips back he brushed against Ringo's erection ever so slightly. The wanton noise Ringo let out was pathetic to say the least, but he was past caring at this point.

No touching was the one rule Ringo thought he understood about this whole thing, it was probably the only thing that stopped him from going absolutely insane as he knew that no matter how irresistible Spike looked at least he wasn't going to touch him. Apparently he'd even been wrong about that. Ringo had been so out of it that he hadn't realised Spike had thrown the other suspender somewhere, what snapped him out of his daze was the feeling of Spike picking up his hand to press against his bare chest. Ringo was very glad that Spike didn't let go bcause he didn't feel like he had any control over that hand in the slightest. Spike hissed a little when the cold metal of Ringo's rings pressed against his skin, it definitely didn't go unnoticed. Ringo looked up at him a little helplessly, more so than anything because he couldn't really cope looking at his own hand touching him. His skin was smooth and warm; it was far from the first man he'd touched but it may as well have been with how intense the sensation was.

Before his brain could even compute what was going on, Spike lifted Ringo's hand away to set it back down. Just before he let go of it completely, he held it for a moment and ran his finger over each of the rings, circling his finger over the gem on one of them. This shouldn't have affected Ringo as much as it did, it's not like they were even a part of his body, yet he still inhaled sharply as he did it. As his hand fell back to his side the palm felt like it was burning. 

How much time had passed? Another song was playing, was this the second or the third one? How much longer did he have? Ringo's brain was in overdrive while also being strangely sluggish.

Ringo thought the two of them couldn't be much closer but then Spike slid himself onto the seat, raising his thighs upwards so that he was practically straddling him. As he did this their groins rubbed together again, and this time Ringo failed to hold his tongue. 

"Fuck." He breathed out harshly which resulted in another chuckle from Spike. 

Thankfully he didn't stay so close for very long, one more grind like that and Ringo would almost certainly explode, but the alternative wasn't any more forgiving. Spike lifted his hips upwards, spreading his knees out farther so that his crotch was level with Ringo's chest. Part of Ringo felt like he shouldn't be looking so shamelessly, but there was almost nowhere else to look even if he wanted to. Spike's hand began tracing over his torso once more, Ringo couldn't help thinking about how the skin had felt under his own fingers, then ran down to the top of the shorts. No. _Surely_ not. Ringo felt his eyes widening as Spike's other hand mirrored the first and both thumbs dipped under the material. There had to be something underneath, there _had_ to be. After all John had said this place wasn't like that, but maybe Ringo's first mistake was trusting John. 

Gradually inch upon inch of skin was revealed, the sound of the leather unsticking shouldn't have been sexy but Ringo was coming undone all the same. The position was difficult, Ringo was very quickly realising why this was a well paid profession. The urge to reach his hand up was becoming unbearable, but the last thing Ringo was going to do was cross that respectful boundary without permission. Much to his relief, and slight disappointment, the straps of underwear underneath were revealed as Spike pulled the shorts off. Straps was the only way to describe them, the material was minimal to say the least. The whole thing seemed to be happening in slow motion, right up until Spike slid the leather past his cock, and suddenly everything was going a mile a minute. It sprung out from the tight restraint and Ringo's mouth dropped open to let out a frustrated whine. 

His mouth didn't stay agape for long as Spike ran two of his fingers alongside the bottom of Ringo's jaw to position it slightly higher - and probably to restrain him somewhat - as he began thrusting upwards once again. Yet another of his senses was being overwhelmed at this point, as if sight and sound weren't bad enough now he could _smell_ him. It was a mixture of sweat and light perfume, and Ringo breathed in the scent like he was starved for oxygen. He wondered whether Spike had been watching him the entire time or if his eyes just wandered about the room with little interest, but all Ringo could do was wonder since hid eyes were glued to the spectacle in front of him. 

In a fairly swift movement Spike then climbed off of him, sliding from the seat elegantly and removing the shorts entirely all before Ringo had even recognised he was moving. Once again he turned his back but he did it slowly this time, turning on his heel to reveal the extreme lack of material covering his arse. Ringo didn't even think they made thongs for men, but he was very grateful to whoever came up with the idea. One slim band of fabric ran down between Spike's two cheeks, his arse was very tight and petite. It didn't really matter that Ringo couldn't touch him because Spike was touching himself, and that was _far_ sexier. His slim fingers spread out over each cheek as he bent forward slightly, then he threw one hand into the air only to spank it down hard onto the skin. It let out a harsh sound and Spike let out a quiet moan, Ringo was almost certain he was putting it on but that didn't make it any less arousing. He spanked himself again, once, twice and a third time, every time his moans got a little louder. On the final spank, he gripped the flesh tightly and left imprints in the redness that was beginning to show. 

Spike then straightened his back, tensing his muscles as he stretched upwards slightly which Ringo watched with great interest. He began to walk around the seats so that he was behind Ringo, then placed his hands flat onto Ringo's chest and ran them downwards. When they reached his belt he stopped and circled his fingers for a moment or two before swiftly removing them entirely. He ran a single finger across the back of Ringo's neck and let out a satisfied hum.

"I'll leave you alone to collect yourself." Spike's voice sounded booming considering nobody had spoken for a while, and it shook Ringo harshly back to reality.

Ringo could hear rustling behind him as he could only assume Spike was putting on what little clothes he'd started in, he never saw it for himself as by the time he'd turned around to look Spike was already gone. He couldn't help feeling a little unsatisfied, only because he'd been so intensely satisfied for so long with no real conclusion. Wasn't this supposed to help with his sexual frustration? It seemed to have done the exact opposite if his aching erection was anything to go by. His heart was still pounding, it had never really stopped.

This whole ordeal felt like a one night stand condensed into about fifteen minutes, complete with the hasty collection of clothes, except without the release of actually having sex. Ringo cursed John, he cursed himself but mostly he cursed Spike. How dare he be able to toy with him so easily, to turn him into a whining mess without much of a word or a touch. It was utterly deplorable, and Ringo needed more of it.

But first he had other matters to attend to, namely disowning John and finding a new best friend that wouldn't dare to punish him this way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i almost didnt finish this chapter tonight because i got so distracted for obvious reasons
> 
> if you havent completely judged me then i hope you enjoyed! (even if you did judge me i still hope you liked it)
> 
> just like ringo is desperate for release im desperate for feedback so please leave me a little comment if you can i really wanna know what you guys think cause ive never written anything like this before! you can probably guess from this that ive never had a lap dance so i have NO idea what a regular one is like but thats half the fun i suppose
> 
> im going to repeat myself and wish you all happiness and health in these scary scary times ❤️


	4. Chance Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ringo returns to John and manages to get him back home. The following day Ringo meets a familiar face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i would very much like to dedicate this chapter to the very lovely Salomé who has been so unbelievably lovely and supportive of my writing! before you thank me you better thank them cause i wouldnt have half the motivation to write anything if they hadnt been leaving such lovely comments ❤️

Once Ringo had managed to compose himself, which took far longer than he'd care to admit, he ventured back out into the chaos of the club in search of John. He wasn't difficult to find, standing at the front of the stage cheering - practically screaming - and waving money around to get the dancer's attention. Unsurprisingly, the dancer was Paul. He was currently spinning around the pole with one hand, his ankles entwined to give him support. It was quite a beautiful sight, Ringo thought, watching his gentle movements. The club was considerably more empty by this point and the remainder of the customers had circled around the stage. Ringo slinked past a few drunken layabouts as he made his way over to John, he had to shout in his ear just to get his attention.

"Oh, Ringo!" John grinned, his breath stank of whiskey "How'd it go?"

"A little _too_ well." Ringo chuckled, he coaxed John to sit down.

"Did he almost kill you this time?" John only passed Ringo a few glances, mostly his attention was on Paul.

"I think he _did_ kill me. Then brought me back. Then killed me again." Ringo picked up John's drink and took a sip "Are they supposed to touch you?"

John paused his shouting for a moment "Touch you how?"

"Just... Y'know, _touching_. Getting me to touch him, him touching my chest." Ringo decided to leave out the crotch contact, he still wasn't sure whether it was intentional or not.

"Oh yeah, that's fine. As long as you're both consenting o'course. And as long as he's not dropping on his knees and sucking you off." John laughed and Ringo almost choked on the drink, the image those words conjured up was a surprising one.

"How much longer are you planning on staying?" Ringo settled back in his seat and turned his attention to Paul.

"Why? You in a hurry to get home and bash one out?" John nudged him without pulling his eyes away from the stage.

"Speak for yourself." Ringo scoffed, he didn't see the point in denying it.

"We can head out after Paulie's done." John nodded to gesture towards the man in question.

"Fine." Ringo stretched his legs out in front of him.

If he hadn't been so exhausted from Spike, Ringo probably would've gotten a little excited watching Paul but he was completely worn out. John had a shine in his eyes that Ringo didn't see very often, and his happiness was definitely contagious. They sat watching Paul for another two songs, during which he exhibited a ridiculous amount of core strength that Ringo could only dream of ever achieving. It was obvious that John was hoping to catch Paul before they headed back home, as much as he was trying to hide it, and Ringo probably would've hung around with him had he not been so exhausted or so sure that John was probably going to be back here within the week. In truth the main reason Ringo wanted to get out of there so quickly was because he didn't want to risk seeing Spike again, or rather Spike seeing _him_ again; Ringo happily could've watched him from a safe distance all night but as soon as Spike was looking right back at him, knowing what Ringo was thinking, that was too much.

The cold night air stung Ringo's face and hands as they stepped back out into the street. Luckily his car wasn't too far away and while he was perhaps a little too tipsy to be driving he made sure he stayed off the main roads and never went over the speed limit - he could drive recklessly when he was sober but he'd never risk that when he was drunk. John was the only one talking on the drive back to his place, mostly rambling about things Ringo couldn't understand so he just nodded along and made affirming noises.

John leaned on Ringo for support as they walked up to his front door, Ringo knew he wasn't so drunk that he couldn't walk but he tended to do this when he was feeling a little lonely. Ringo had gotten more than used to it by now, he'd had to carry John to bed bridal style many times over the years so this was nothing. John fell face first down onto his bed which was still unmade and either fell asleep immediately or wanted Ringo to think he had. It had almost become a routine by this point: Ringo drove them home, carried John up to his room, left a glass of water by his bed and tidied up a few bits and pieces on his way out. Occasionally he'd check in John's fridge to see if he had any food in and if it was empty, which it often was, he'd offer to buy or cook the two of them dinner the next day. Ringo wasn't the subtlest about it sometimes, once or twice he'd even shown up with bags filled with groceries and left after handing them over without much of an explanation. John never acknowledged any of these things Ringo did, at least not verbally, but Ringo knew he appreciated them and he was sure John repaid the favour in some ways he wasn't aware of, or _very_ aware of in the case of tonight.

Exhaustion hit like a strong wave once Ringo finally got back to his own place. He kicked off his shoes carelessly in the hallway and staggered into his bedroom; he didn't dare look at the time before he slid into bed, just chucked his phone into the furthest corner hoping that he'd remembered to set his alarm for the following morning. As soon as his head hit the pillow he expected to fall asleep almost instantly but his brain had other ideas. His body was _definitely_ ready for sleep, his eyes were stinging and his muscles ached a little yet his mind was racing. This didn't happen a lot. Ringo was notoriously known for how well he slept and how loudly he snored but tonight that wasn't the case. He couldn't shake the images of the night from his mind or how warm Spike's skin had felt beneath his fingertips or the inviting smell of him. Ringo let out a groan as he tossed and turned, as though vigorous movement would throw the thoughts out of his head. The last thing he wanted to do was give into the urge but the _first_ thing he wanted to do was sleep, and it was a pretty strong urge. Was there any better way to get to sleep than a quick orgasm? Probably. Ringo just had to tell himself that he was doing this purely for that purpose, as he wanked himself off under the covers with his eyes scrunched tightly and his brain filled with thoughts of Spike. 

The following day was fairly uneventful, Ringo was up on time to sit eating breakfast in front of the television for an hour before he had to head out for work. It was his weekly lesson with a kid called Peter, he was nice enough and his parents were more than pleasant if not a little stupid. He'd been working with Peter for almost a year and while he'd made a great deal of progress since their first lesson he wasn't showing a massive amount of promise, but at least he was trying. Sometimes Ringo felt like speaking to his parents privately and breaking the news that their son wasn't going to become a world famous drummer, probably not even a locally famous one, but he needed the money too much. Peter was better than a lot of Ringo's students, most of which had watched Whiplash a few too many times and decided they wanted to be the next John Bonham only to give up in two months because it was 'too hard'.

After their lesson ended Ringo decided to walk around town for a little while, usually he'd be out in search of lunch by now but Peter's parents always prepared him some food which he was never too polite to refuse - after all smoked salmon was considerably more appetising than a tepid sausage roll from Greggs. He decided to pop into his favourite record shop, although it wasn't like there were many others to choose from. Despite the accessibility to music his phone provided, Ringo always had a deep love for vinyl records; they were nostalgic somehow, even if they had no significance to his own childhood. Like most record shops, this one sold a fair bit of vintage clothing too although Ringo was never too interested in that. He didn't really have any particular record in mind as he walked in so ended up browsing through the plethora of options. There was only one other person in the shop, excluding the owner who sat behind the counter and gave Ringo a welcoming smile, but it sounded like there were a couple of people downstairs in the clothing section. As Ringo began to flick through some of the records his phone buzzed in his pocket.

_can you bring me coffee???_

It was John, which was a little surprising considering he usually didn't wake up until far later in the afternoon if he'd been drinking heavily the night before.

**hello to you too**

_i dont have time for formalities i need COFFEE_

**why dont you have any coffee in your house**

 **** _i dont have time for questions either_

**any coffee in particular my liege?**

 **** _ha ha  
just get me one from maccies pleaseeee  
_

**fine im just in town atm can you wait like 10 mins**

 **** _suppose ill have to_

**suddenly im too busy**

 **** _shut up just bring me coffee ill love you forever and all that  
_

**i should bloody think so too**

Ringo chuckled to himself quietly as he put his phone back into his pocket, he took a final quick look at the stack of records then began making his way outside. Before he could make it to the door he suddenly collided with someone who had been turning up from the staircase, which resulted in a few pieces of clothing flying upwards and landing on the ground. Ringo began apologising immediately, crouching down to pick up the clothes to hand them back over. As he straightened back up to apologise for perhaps the fourth time he froze upon seeing exactly who he'd bumped into.

"Spike." Ringo blurted out, his brain had decided to throw the name out as soon as it crossed his mind.

"Only after 9." He responded instantaneously, it must've been a frequent line he used "Do I... Oh! It's you."

"The very same." Ringo chuckled nervously, he wondered whether he'd actually recognised him or was just being polite - Ringo couldn't decide which one he'd prefer.

It was very strange seeing him like this, so normal that it was abnormal. He was wearing a dark blue turtleneck which framed his sharp jaw and hugged his slim body nicely. Over that lay a yellow beaded necklace and his trousers were a dark suede material; he looked _good_ , somehow more alluring when he was fully clothed. Ringo noticed he was staring, he only hoped that Spike hadn't noticed but it was impossible to tell with the unreadable darkness of his eyes. He cleared his throat, as if he couldn't get any more obvious, then held out the patterned shirt he'd picked up so Spike could take it from him. Their hands brushed slightly at the exchange and Ringo felt the hairs on his arm standing up.

"They're nice, er- Nice clothes." Ringo stammered, yanking his hand back to his side.

"Suppose I should be thanking you for them." Spike replied, there was a faint smile on his lips.

"Oh?" Ringo heard the pitch of his voice rising slightly.

"You helped pay for them." Spike explained, the smile grew.

"Well John paid, really. But he does owe me money so I guess I _did_ pay in a way. Glad to see the money's going somewhere good either way." Ringo rambled, once again his mouth was moving before his brain could stop it.

"Right." Spike said, his tone was very final yet he didn't move to leave.

"I best be getting out of your way so you can actually pay for those." Ringo shuffled sideways towards the door, expecting Spike to step backwards to give him some room but he just stood there looking at him - was it not enough to make him suffer at the club, did he have to punish him now too?

"Are you always this nervous?" Spike grinned.

"No I- You just caught me by surprise is all." Ringo forced himself to take a deep breath.

"Okay." Spike squinted his eyes slightly then turned to head towards the counter.

Ringo was surprised he was able to get back to his car without collapsing, all the tension leaving his body as soon as Spike's eyes were off him made him feel practically boneless. Spike didn't look back at him but Ringo supposed he didn't have to, he would've known he was staring at him. Ringo gripped the steering wheel tightly as he drove, somehow managing to make it to the drive-through without consciously driving there. He ordered a coffee for John and a milkshake for himself, he figured he could do with a pick-me-up after that atrocious encounter. Not once in all the times he'd gone to that shop had he seen Spike there, and it couldn't have been a case of merely not noticing him before because Ringo _definitely_ would've noticed someone looking like that walking around. It felt like God was playing some cruel trick on him, but in reality it was nothing more than a coincidence married with Spike's cruelty which produced that painful exchange. Ringo tried not to think about it as he drove over to John's but his brain had apparently decided to betray him, just as his mouth had done earlier.

John had took a while to answer the door and Ringo began to worry that he'd fallen back asleep - it was times like this that he figured he may as well have a key to his place. When the door swung open, Ringo burst in a little too aggressively and knocked John backwards slightly.

"Jesus, what's crawled up your arse?" John chuckled as he closed the door "Don't tell me the ice cream machine was broken _again_."

John's presence calmed Ringo significantly but he couldn't shake the tension in his body completely "Guess who I just bumped into." He set the drinks down on John's kitchen table and took a seat.

"Ooh was it that guy from the train station? Or how about-" John took a seat opposite him and gripped the coffee eagerly.

"You're not actually meant to guess." Ringo interrupted, he tried to sound commanding but it was a little difficult when he was holding a strawberry milkshake.

"Then don't say 'guess' you git. The English language is _wasted_ on you." John put his feet up on the table "Who was it then?"

"Spike." Ringo widened his eyes.

"No shit. Really?" John cackled "What happened?"

"I was at that record shop and he was coming up from the basement and I walked straight into him." Ringo explained.

"Nothing straight about it." John mumbled behind his coffee.

"Funny." Ringo glared "It was so fucking embarrassing, I could hardly speak."

"What did he say?" John asked.

"Nothing really. He probably said about three words so I figured he didn't want to talk to me but he just _stood_ there. I didn't want to be rude and just rush out but looking back I probably should've." Ringo sighed.

"Yeah, you probably should've." John snickered.

"Not helping." 

"What do you want me to say?"

"I dunno... I'm sure it wasn't that bad or something."

"Well, _was_ it that bad?"

"He asked me if I was always so nervous."

John burst into laughter "Jesus, Ringo. That's _pretty_ bad."

"Guess that's the last time I'll be going to the strip club, or the record shop for that matter."

"Don't be so dramatic. So you were a little awkward in front of him, who cares?"

" _I_ care."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want him thinking I'm some sort of loser."

"Why do you give a shit what he thinks?"

Ringo didn't say anything, he just held his cup tightly and looked at John straight in the eye.

"Look, you've got nothing to get so worked up about. If he thought you were so pathetic he wouldn't have even spoken to you." John lifted his feet off the table and leaned forward in his seat "He's just messing with you, probably thinks it's funny."

"He _was_ smiling." Ringo mumbled.

"Well there you go." John reached his hand forward and poked at Ringo's arm "You're being ridiculous. Chances are you won't bump into him again, you've gone your whole life without doing it before."

"But-" Ringo began.

"No buts! Unless they're butts on the stage covered in leather I don't wanna hear it." John interrupted "Bottom line is you like watching this guy strip right?"

"Well, yeah-" Ringo tried again.

"So what's the problem? It's not like you found out he's your cousin or one of your students, is it?" John smiled warmly.

"Suppose not." Ringo couldn't help smiling too.

"We _really_ need to get you laid, it's making you crazy. I'm supposed to be the crazy one, don't try and take that away from me." John leaned back in his chair again.

"I don't intend to." Ringo chuckled looking down at his feet.

"So... Same time next week?" John raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"You really hate me, don't you?"

"On the contrary! I love you very much, my dear Ringo. That's exactly why I'm gonna take you back there so you can _prove_ you're not some pathetic weirdo." 

"How exactly?"

"Just be yourself, you can manage that can't you?"

"Not quite sure I _want_ to."

"Oh hush. Leave the self-deprecation to me if you don't mind." John paused to sip his coffee "This time next week you'll have forgotten all about this, and I'm sure he will too."

"I guess you're right." 

But John hadn't been right. Ringo had thought about that small exchange for days. He found himself picking apart every small moment and trying to rationalise it in his mind: had Spike actually recognised him? Why did he just stand there while Ringo tried to squeeze past? Why had been smiling so strangely the whole time? No matter how many answers Ringo tried to give to himself, the whole situation only became more confusing. He felt like a teenager again, stumbling over his words and blushing at the tiniest bit of contact. It was pathetic, shameful really. Maybe if he just took John's advice and actually went and slept with someone all these weird feelings would just be gone. But he didn't want just someone, he wanted _him_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im not sure if this is just the late night paranoia kicking in but i feel like this chapter might be absolutely awful so please let me know if it is so i can rewrite it ASAP
> 
> im gonna be moving back up to uni by the end of this month so im gonna try and get this fic finished before then so fingers crossed inspiration strikes
> 
> hope you guys enjoyed and are staying as happy and safe as possible! we could all do with a little more joy in times like this so i hope my writing can provide some comfort ❤️


	5. Illicit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John sends Ringo a text which sends him into a bit of a dilemma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me saving shirtless photos of george to my camera roll while writing this chapter: this is for research purposes

Despite what John had suggested, Ringo didn't go back to The Helter Skelter the following week; he'd considered it when John sent him yet another late night text but ultimately decided it wasn't the best idea. Spike had been playing on his mind daily and Ringo wasn't sure he was prepared to face him again. Instead he focused on his drumming and searched for a few more students to teach, which were fairly easy to find. Usually Ringo enjoyed his time off, he understood he was lucky that he didn't have to work a 9-5 job just to get by, but recently he wanted his fill his time up as much as possible, to distract himself.

One of his new students seemed incredibly interested in him, they'd spent an hour just chatting in his living room before they'd even moved over to the drum kit. Ringo wasn't too fussed, he was getting paid by the hour so wasting time was beneficial to him but he didn't want to give the guy the wrong impression. He was a little bit older and attractive enough but Ringo simply wasn't interested.

"Why didn't you just go for it?" John had asked him when they next met up.

"I dunno..." Ringo mumbled, but a part of him knew very well.

He'd given the guy another lesson since then and it became clear that the guy's interest in him wasn't going away any time soon. Ringo felt bad about the whole thing, wasn't he just doing exactly what Spike was doing to him? He tried to act as professional as possible the second time around in attempt to get the guy to back off, considering he hadn't heard from him since he was hoping it had worked. What was wrong with him? Was he really going to make himself suffer like this all because of one guy? And not just any guy, a _stripper_ who had shown absolutely no interest in him at all. It was ridiculous, he kept telling himself, but no matter how much he tried to convince himself that he had to get over Spike, he would still think about him every day without fail. Trying to distract himself with clients had been working somewhat, but it had been difficult, especially when his best friend was John Lennon.

_youre gonna love me_

The text came through when Ringo was sat in a café getting some lunch. He'd finished with one of his younger students, a sweet girl who's parents had tried to convince her to try a more 'ladylike' instrument but she had promised only to give up the drums if she was awful; much to her delight, and Ringo's for being able to prove the stereotypical parents wrong, she was pretty good. Seeing her always put Ringo in a good mood, the parents mostly stayed away partly due to the noise but mostly due to disappointment, which meant they could joke around together. Ringo could tell she admired him and he welcomed it gladly, one of the best things about teaching was inspiring others, at least for him it was. 

**do i not already?**

_well yes  
but youre gonna love me EVEN more_

**what have you done**

_well i happened to stop by the club last night_

**oh god what did you do**

_wow is that how little you trust me_

**can you blame me**

_suppose not  
ANYWAY i got talking to paulie_

**surprise surprise**

_do you want the good news or not???_

**fine fine sorry**

_AS I WAS SAYING i was talking to paulie  
and he told me that your special little someone has an onlyfans account_

**first of all fuck you for calling him that  
second of all wtf is onlyfans**

_oh sorry i didnt realise you werent living in the 21st century_

**......  
care to grace me with your knowledge?**

_basically its a website where you can post exclusive stuff for ONLY FANS to see  
its not a porn site or anything but its basically where people sell their nudes  
MEANING spike has an account so you can totally see loads of raunchy filthy perverted pics of him_

**but i have to pay?**

_well weve all gotta make a living_

**i can basically see him naked for free**

_but this way you wont get all freaked out and embarrassed  
well you will but nobody will know at least  
so do you want the link or not???_

Ringo paused for a few moments, he was gripping his phone tightly in both of his hands as he unblinkingly looked at John's words. If his mind was going to decide to make him suffer by enabling his intense interest in Spike, he may as well get something out of it. 

**fine**

_where are your manners richard??_

**can i please have the link to the strippers nude photos please john please**

_alright calm down  
let me know if its worth while i might have a look_

**idk if im even gonna look at it  
paying for porn is a little dated  
**

_treat yourself ringo  
id offer to pay but im broke  
_

**if youre broke why were you at the strip club last night?**

_well SOMEONE had to go_

**they really didnt**

_im supporting my local economy_

**i dont think thats how that works**

_sure it is  
anyway here you go_

Ringo stared at the link for a while, his eyes even began to blur, he didn't want to risk opening it in public even though he knew there was little chance of anyone seeing. He finished his lunch in a hurry and headed home quickly, only when he was in the privacy of his bedroom did he dare open it. First he had to make an account, when he saw the screen loading up asking for an email address and password he just turned his screen off and put the phone down. This was far too much effort for something he shouldn't really have been doing in the first place. But it only took a few minutes for him to pick the phone back up and begin signing up, he used an old email as it felt less seedy that way and he didn't want to risk his name cropping up anywhere for Spike to see. Now he could load up the link properly and take a proper look at Spike's profile.

Just looking at the small profile picture was enough to startle Ringo a little, the dark eyes looking into the camera with that unreadable glimmer behind them. He was shirtless in the picture, Ringo wondered why that didn't catch his attention first, with the frame cutting off just before it showed anything too explicit. The header was a photo taken from the club, showing him in tight, leather pants and tassels on his nipples which matched the whip he held in his hand. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. He'd spent so much time and effort trying not to think about this man, attempting to keep him out of his mind as much as possible. Ringo knew that if he went through with this all that progress would be lost, he'd be giving in to whatever strange obsession he'd developed for Spike, one that no doubt wasn't going to lead to anything good. 

Ringo kept staring at the screen as though it was going to tell him what he should do. Spike's profile had no description, which wasn't very surprising, and it dashed any hope Ringo had of discovering something new about him. Right before he was about to put his phone down again, it vibrated.

_howd the wank go??_

**john i dont care how long weve been friends asking how my wank was will always be weird**

_youre right sorry  
so how did it go???_

**if you must know  
i havent had a wank  
i havent even paid for entry**

_now whos the one being inappropriate??_

**ha ha**

_why havent you???_

**feels weird**

_oh i see  
youll consume a bunch of unethical porn for free but god forbid you actually give sex workers any actual money_

**you are the last person who can lecture me about unethical porn**

_hey now watch yourself  
ringo if you dont get a subscription I WILL_

**go ahead**

_and ill tell you every day what sexy sexy pictures hes posting  
ill tell you EVERY SINGLE TIME i have a wank over them_

**every time? i dont think youve got enough data for that**

_im not joking_

**neither am i  
you wank A LOT**

_ringooooo just buy it i swear to god  
if its not worth it or you regret it or whatever ill give you the money back_

**on top of the money you already owe me?**

_have you always been such a capitalist_

**youre not doing a very good job of convincing me**

_fine  
spikes cock  
now are you convinced???_

**maybe**

_naked pictures of spike whenever and wherever you want them all for the low low price of 10 quid a month  
convinced??_

**fine fine  
if itll shut you up  
**

_im starting to think thats code for 'i really wanna do this but im too embarrassed to admit it'_

**i hate you**

_now that DEFINITELY code for 'john youre right'  
anyway theres no time to be telling me how right i am all the time youve got dick pics to look at  
even i wont stand in the way of a good wank  
so dont bother replying to me until youve paid for that subscription young man_

**im older than you**

_DONT BOTHER REPLYING_

Ringo let out a sigh and rested his head against the bedroom wall from where he was laying on the bed. He opened up the link again and his thumb hovered over the subscription button, why couldn't he just do it? The money wasn't an issue, it could've cost half as much or be double the price and he'd still be debating it all the same. Somehow it felt like an invasion of privacy, after all Spike hadn't told Ringo about it himself, but then again that didn't necessarily mean he didn't want Ringo to see it. After all it was like John said: everyone has to make a living somehow. Sometimes Ringo wished he could turn off that part of his brain that was so empathetic, so concerned about how everyone felt and what they were thinking. He knew that he wanted this, so why wasn't he allowing himself to have it? Ringo could see that he was being ridiculous, as he was with almost anything involving Spike, and after lying there for a while pondering and debating he decided to flip a coin. Heads would mean he got the subscription, tails that he didn't. He watched the coin spinning through the air after he flicked it upwards, then snatched it and slammed it down onto his forearm before slowly moving his hand away: it was tails. What a relief. Ringo chuckled to himself for being so foolish, settling down into his bed; it was still only around midday but he didn't have anywhere he needed to be.

So why didn't he feel relieved in the slightest?

This whole thing was getting tiring, the constant debate between what he believed he should do and what he _wanted_ to do, and it seemed like it wasn't going to be ending anytime soon. Apparently he was in this for the long run, whatever that meant, but if he was going to turn down relatively attractive guys practically throwing themselves at him, he may as well go all the way. While he was putting in his credit card information, he stopped to think around three of four times, but once he'd finished and the images became accessible to him, his brain was barely able to conjure up a coherent sentence.

"Jesus..." Ringo breathed out as his eyes flicked across the plethora of pictures loading up on his screen.

There was a lot of them, and _a lot_ of Spike was on display. Most of them were pictures taken at the club, either from a professional photographer in the audience or photos he'd taken himself in the mirrors backstage - Ringo could even see glimpses of Paul in the background of some of them. The ones that caught Ringo's eyes the most were those that seemed to be taken in his house, these also happened to be the ones in which Spike tended to be fully naked. It was very different experience to see him like this: a static image that he'd intentionally taken of himself and posted for so many people to see, an image that couldn't look back at Ringo and make him feel that strange mixture of excitement and shame. He began scrolling down the feed which only revealed more and more enticing photos. Ringo began to feel himself hardening, he suspected it had been happening for a while now but he'd been far too distracted to notice. He felt like a teenager discovering porn for the first time, it was difficult to remind himself that this wasn't anything new. Seeing Spike naked shouldn't have excited him so much, and yet it _did_.

One picture in particular drew Ringo's attention: Spike was stood in front of a bathroom mirror with a loose black tie lying against his bare chest, one hand was holding a phone and the other gripping his cock. He had dark eye make up on and his hair was messy. Ringo wasn't sure exactly what it was about this photo that was so enticing but he couldn't take his eyes off it. The prominence of his collarbones, the faint curls of his dark hair, how his slim fingers wrapped around himself. Slowly Ringo slid his own hand under the waistband of his boxers as he stared at the picture. At first he hesitated, his fingers stopped right above the base. It's not like this would've been the first time he'd touched himself while thinking about Spike, it would've been far from the last he imagined, but this was different. It was more concrete, more of an admission. Nothing felt quite as real when it's only being imagined, the haziness of lust fuzzing up the mind as it so often did, but now with a very real photo of Spike in front of him - which he'd paid to see - the feeling was far more tangible, far harder to ignore.

He'd come this far, he told himself as his hand sunk lower until his fingers were running along the length of his semi-hard cock, he may as well go all the way. To begin with Ringo stayed looking at this single picture as he slowly pumped himself, but as his lust began to grow he perused through more and more pictures: Spike kneeling naked in front of a mirror with a loose cigarette hanging from his lips, lying in the bath with bubbles only just about covering his nakedness, spread out on the bed with a gag in his mouth, handcuffs forcing his slim arms behind his back with his cock throbbing. None of this was anything Ringo hadn't seen before, like most people in this day and age he'd searched through the darker corners of the internet - sometimes willingly, sometimes John was to blame - but to see Spike in such a way was like an entirely new rush. Each picture drove Ringo further and further on, at times he almost dropped his phone with how sloppy his movements were becoming. Who took these photos? Ringo figured it was best not to think about it, the possibility that Spike had a boyfriend who took all these pictures of him would've been the quickest way to kill his erection.

Ringo began moaning and cursing wantonly as he got closer and closer to his orgasm, he had to stop flicking through the pictures because he could hardly concentrate on what his other hand was doing, so he settled on a final one to help him finish; it wasn't particularly strategic but he was definitely grateful that he selected the one that he did. In it Spike was looking directly into the camera, allowing Ringo to gaze longingly into the rich brown of his eyes and how his dark lashes curled beautifully around them. He was shirtless with nothing but a necklace on, the same necklace that Ringo had seen him wearing in the record store and Ringo couldn't help feeling a sense of satisfaction that he'd seen it with his own eyes, as though it meant something. Deep down he knew that it didn't but his inebriated mind was latching onto it. The nudity in the photo was hardly interesting Ringo by this point, although it would be wrong to say that he completely ignored the flatness of his stomach or the faint shadows of his ribs beneath his pale skin, it was the personal aspect which truly affected him.

This wasn't just lust. Lust Ringo could understand, he could compartmentalise it and give into it without much shame or a second thought. If this was just lust, he would've bought the subscription without a care and touched himself looking at the nakedness of Spike's body as though it meant nothing more than a way to get off. Yet here he was on the brink of orgasm looking into another man's eyes, eyes that felt like they were looking straight back at him as though they were sharing this moment together. It wasn't hard to imagine Spike's hand in place of his own, those deep eyes watching Ringo come undone piece by piece. Ringo's hip began to stutter, his leg twitching a little as he had to drop the phone down onto his lap as his head fell back against his pillow as his orgasm approached. It wasn't the image of Spike's naked body that filled Ringo's mind as he came, it wasn't his arse or his cock or even his chest, it was his face, his voice, it was _him_.

Ringo lay breathless on his bed for a while, the clarity that arrived as his orgasm subsided wasn't welcome in the slightest and he was reluctant to pick his phone back up to see Spike's eyes looking at him once again. There was no use in feeling ashamed about it, no point in trying to deny it any longer: his feelings for Spike were more than a mere passing fancy, that was clear. Exactly what he was meant to do about these feelings was far from clear but that wasn't something Ringo could figure out right now with cum on his stomach and the daylight seeping through his bedroom curtains.

When he'd picked up his phone he'd closed all the apps immediately, doing his best not to catch a glimpse of what he'd been so eagerly looking at before. Just as he was about to step into the shower to clean himself off, his phone buzzed; he almost couldn't hear it over the music he was blasting out. It alerted him for a moment as though it was going to be a message from Spike stating he knew exactly what Ringo had just done - it wouldn't have really surprised him had that been the case, Spike's face almost always looked like he knew something that nobody else did - but fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, it was John.

_sooo how did the wank go_

**who knows  
but on a totally unrelated note im about to get into the shower  
**

_well before you do that i have even more good news  
_

**can it not wait?**

_NO because you might cum just at the thought of it and then youd be wasting a good shower_

__ **well arent you considerate  
and unnecessarily graphic  
**

_thats me  
anyway im taking you to the club next tuesday whether you like it or not  
_

__ **im still waiting for the good news**

_well if youd let me FINISH  
next week theyre doing a special event and we just have to go  
youll never guess what it is  
_

**what is it?**

_guess_

**you just said ill never guess**

_youre no fun_

**WHAT IS IT**

_alright alright keep your hair on  
its a crossdressing event  
high heels make up probably a few wigs all that good stuff  
_

**im still waiting for the good news**

_OH COME ON youre telling me you dont want to see spike in heels and fishnets with some lovely lipstick on_

Ringo gulped. It wasn't a difficult image to conjure up his mind, considering he'd been staring at photos of Spike for the past twenty minutes and it excited him to say the least. He _did_ want to see that, very much indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for reading! i feel like my writing style is changing a little bit as i write this fic so please dont hesitate to let me know what you think in the comments!
> 
> ive never actually used onlyfans so apologies if im being completely inaccurate 
> 
> sorry if theres too much texting in this chapter i just cant imagine this conversation working as well in real life plus i love writing johns texts hes such a little shit i love him
> 
> with another chapter comes another message from me about staying happy and healthy ❤️ 2020 really seems like the craziest year weve ever experienced the more it goes on but as long as we stay positive and strong we can get through it :)
> 
> i can already tell writing the next chapter might kill me because i have a huge crossdressing kink but im willing to take that risk for you guys


	6. Androgyny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ringo and John prepare to head to The Helter Skelter for their cross-dressing event.

Ringo found himself getting excited for the following Tuesday, he'd be sitting at home watching the television and suddenly the image of Spike in a short skirt or wearing makeup would flash into his mind and he'd have to consciously calm himself. John tried to get him to go along to the club in the meantime, but Ringo refused for a multitude of reasons, although he wasn't sure which was the genuine one. Part of him was still a little nervous about facing Spike again, especially after how much alone time he'd been spending with his pictures. Another simply told him that he wanted to wait, it'd be more special that way, and he didn't really have the primal urge that John seemed to have that resulted in him ending up at the club almost every night. 

In the days leading up to the event Ringo spent most of his time working. The school year was coming to an end which meant he was being called in for a mass amount of activity days. They weren't Ringo's favourite thing in the world, he much preferred earning his money by teaching students one-on-one but it definitely mixed things up a little. The day would mostly consist of younger children coming into a large hall where Ringo would talk for a little bit about drumming before the students got a chance to try it out themselves. It got a little chaotic at times, and Ringo felt relieved that he didn't have to bring his own kit in because these children were anything but predictable. Sometimes they'd result in one or two students expressing a real interest in drumming and so Ringo would give them one of his business cards to pass along to their parents; more often than not it wouldn't result in anything at all but on occasion he could get several new students from participating in a few of these activity days.

One aspect of these events that Ringo never enjoyed was the attention he got from the teachers. He'd gotten used to it by now: one of the younger female teachers asking to try it out and for Ringo to show them how to play - just an excuse to get him stood over them with a chance of their hands touching - but no matter how often it happened it didn't make it any less aggravating. While the children busied themselves with the array of instruments set out, Ringo often had no choice but to stand at the back and talk to whichever teacher was meant to be supervising them. The smalltalk wasn't the problem, usually it was quite refreshing to talk to someone else who worked with children, it was the awkward flirting that drove him up the wall. The worst was when they'd pretend to have a child interested in learning how to drum, or that they themselves were, but when Ringo would actually press for details it would amount to nothing. It was never the men that flirted with him, Ringo had started to think he was the only gay teacher in the area, and there had certainly been times he'd wished they had.

"You need to look gayer." John had pointed out.

"I'm going into a school, John, I can't rock up in a rainbow tank top covered in glitter." Ringo chuckled.

"Why not? Kids love glitter."

There was one male teacher in particular that Ringo had liked the look of, but he'd only met him the once; he taught English, or had it been art? The problem was that the female teachers would be so desperate to volunteer to stand in for Ringo's lesson with the students, even if they seemed to be aware there was no chance of anything actually happening, that he rarely got to see another man. Every time he went back to that same school he'd hoped to see that particular teacher again, yet he was always disappointed.

He was heading back home after completing a session at the local secondary school, the one he'd actually attended when he was younger, fairly exhausted from the energy of the children and massively exhausted from the persistency of the women. As he sank into the driver's seat of his car with a sigh, he swore he was going to buy a rainbow pin to attach to his jacket to ward off anything in the future. On his way home he stopped off at the record shop, partly to pick up something that'd improve his mood but mostly in the hopes that he'd see Spike again. He'd rather see him in an ordinary setting, without the dynamic that existed in the club, as strange as it had been at first. But luck was apparently not on his side today as there was no sign of Spike anywhere in the shop, he'd even browsed the clothes in the basement, which he'd never done before, just to increase the chances of bumping into him.

When Tuesday finally came around Ringo was in dire need of some intoxication, so much so that he went along with John's idea of beginning the drinking before they'd even sat down to eat dinner. Ringo cooked for the two of them while John sat in the kitchen waffling on about some new idea he was having for a story. It was unusual for them to be eating dinner over at John's place, but it was far closer to the club and Ringo definitely wasn't going to risk driving with how much alcohol he was planning on drinking.

"I'm surprised your oven isn't covered in cobwebs considering how little you use it." Ringo stated as he fried up some bacon.

"Why would I use the oven when I have a perfectly good microwave?" John mumbled in response, he was scrawling down ideas messily in a notebook.

"This is _not_ a perfectly good microwave." Ringo chuckled as he gestured with the spatula.

"Calm down, Gordon Ramsay." John quipped.

"What are you even writing?" Ringo asked as he walked away from the oven.

"My mate's putting together some gay poetry book and asked me to write something for it." John explained without looking up "I should've finished it two days ago but I forgot."

"Maybe tonight will give you some inspiration." Ringo tried to read what John had already scribbled down but his handwriting was fairly intelligible.

"Don't tempt me. Paul's already said he won't accept any more poems as payment." John chuckled to himself.

"Any _more_?" Ringo raised his eyebrows.

"Long story." John finally looked up then and flashed Ringo a grin.

By the time they'd finished eating they were already quite drunk, John had begun blasting music from one of his many playlists. 

"Sooooo." John leaned over the table slightly "How's Spike been treating you these last few days?"

Ringo felt his face reddening and he tried to tell himself it was just the alcohol "No complaints from me."

"Can I have a look?" John tilted his head and smiled.

"Er-" Ringo hesitated "I dunno."

"Oh come on!" John reached his hand forward teasingly "I'll give you the 20p or however much a day costs, if that's what you're so worried about."

Ringo didn't budge "Pay for it yourself if you wanna see."

"I'm the one who bloody told you about it in the _first_ _place_ , you twat." John huffed but he was still smiling "Is there something you're not telling me, Ringo?"

"What do you mean?" Ringo shuffled in his seat.

John's smile widened then he casually picked up his drink to take a sip "Nothing. Don't mind me."

The two of them managed to get over to the club in one piece, although John did stumble into the road a couple of times. It was considerably more busy than a normal Tuesday night, or so John claimed, and there were far more people clamoured outside smoking than there usually was. Ringo felt like he had to brace himself before stepping inside, closing his eyes for a second and taking in a deep breath. The amount of people inside was astounding and Ringo began to worry that this had been a bad idea after all. Music was blaring as loud as always, it was difficult to even think but luckily Ringo didn't really need to think when he had John by his side, pulling him over to the nearest bar. As they moved further into the club Ringo could finally see what all the fuss about, one of the strippers was walking around in tall heels with a transparent platform - the kind Ringo had seen in films - paired with a lilac skirt and a white bra. Ringo recognised the man under the makeup from when he'd been here before, he never found him particularly attractive but the sight of him like this definitely interested him at least a little.

"This is gonna be well confusing for my sexuality." Ringo stated as they moved away from the bar with their drinks in hand.

"Best of both worlds for me." John replied with a grin as he looked out amongst the crowd of people.

"So you're into girls again now, are you?" Ringo nudged John lightly.

John paused for a second then turned his head to face Ringo "What are you drinking?"

"Vodka coke, why?" Ringo furrowed his brow in confusion.

"Well you were drinking beers back at my place. You're into drinking vodka now?" John raised his eyebrows in turn.

"I don- Oh, I see. Point made." Ringo punctuated his sentence with a sip of his drink.

It was difficult to get a decent view of the main stage on which someone dressed as Madonna was doing a very graphic dance to 'Like a Prayer', Ringo had never really thought about the double meaning of that song until this moment, but considering it was neither Paul nor Spike they weren't entirely interested. Both of them were scoping around for any sign of their 'preferred' man but it was almost impossible to pinpoint anyone in such a mass of people, particularly when none of the dancers were particularly looking like themselves. John grabbed Ringo around the wrist and pulled him through the crowds until they were heading down to the back room, Ringo could recognise the rhythm of the distant song as Queen's 'I Want to Break Free'.

"I should've worn my Freddie outfit." John commented as they descended the stairs.

"Someone might've beaten you to it." Ringo chuckled.

"This is a strip club not a drag show, don't get it twisted." John shouted over the music as they walked through the door.

Ringo realised very quickly how very 'twisted' his expectations of tonight really had been when he caught a glimpse of what was happening on the stage. Upon hearing the song, Ringo had expected some crude recreation of the music video complete with fake moustaches and enormously large, and clearly fake, breasts. But no, he couldn't have been more wrong. Ringo stopped in his tracks in the doorway, his eyes widening and his throat feeling suddenly dry; John had to pull him forward with great force just to get them over to what few empty seats were left around the edge of the room.

"I told you this was the more _alternative_ stuff." John said excitedly but it wasn't until he settled down on a stool that he realised "Wait... Is that-"

"Yes." Ringo replied bluntly, his mouth remaining slightly open after he'd finished speaking.

It was Spike. Of _course_ it was Spike. Handcuffs were around his slim wrists, chaining him around the pole in the centre of the stage with his arms raised above his head. He wasn't wearing a wig but his face was painted quite beautifully, purple eye-shadow merged with dark eyeliner and a light peach lipstick, somehow he looked even more breathtaking than usual. The makeup was the least startling aspect of the whole thing, even the outfit wasn't what had stunned Ringo, although it was a definite contender; he wore a black laced-up corset which was pulled tightly around his slim frame connected to which were his stockings, on his feet he wore a velvet heel which buckled over his ankle. The sight was simply diabolical, the way his flat chest was still exposed and the hair of his underarms clearly visible alongside the femininity of his face and body. Even _that_ wasn't the issue. The issue was that he wasn't alone on the stage, someone from the audience had stepped up and was slowly unlacing one of the threads of his corset. Ringo could see that a black skirt, almost a tutu, was lying discarded on the edge of the stage. When the realisation sunk in of exactly what was going on, Ringo wasn't sure he'd be able to get up again. 

Spike had his characteristic grin on his painted lips as the man slowly pulled at the fabric keeping his corset in place, they were close enough that they easily could've kissed - and for a long time Ringo feared that they would. The man soon lost interest with the corset, giving Ringo a second to breathe in which he hoped the man was going to turn and leave, then moved his hand to run up Spike's clothed leg. He brushed his fingers over the thin material, gripping the back of Spike's thigh and lifting the leg up to wrap around his own waist. Ringo felt sick. If this had been anyone else, anyone else in the world, he wouldn't have cared, hell he probably would've been aroused by the whole thing. But it wasn't _just_ anyone, it was Spike. The worst part was that he had no reason at all to be getting upset, this was his job and Ringo certainly wouldn't have been complaining had he been in the man's position.

"Is this even legal?" Ringo mumbled to John.

"Fuck knows." John's eyes were wide with excitement "Are you gonna go up there?"

" _Me_?" Ringo scoffed "Not very likely."

The man had continued running his hands over Spike's body, but as soon as his fingers crept up towards his crotch he was pushed away; it was light, clearly wanting to appear playful, but the man quickly got the message and hurried back to his seat somewhat embarrassed as though he'd fallen into some kind of trance. Now alone on the stage, Spike began scanning the audience - who were watching very intently - for someone else to help him 'break free'. While he waited he made a very enticing show of how bound to the pole he was, sinking down almost to the floor with his hands still raised high as he spread his knees out to draw attention to prominence lying in his tight underwear.

"I like this. Very clever. Why do the stripping when they can do it for you?" John was talking more to himself than to Ringo, who was barely listening.

Spike's eyes moved over to where the two of them were sitting and Ringo thought time must've stopped for at least a second. John took a moment or two to realise the eye contact but as soon as he did he was quick to move, shoving Ringo off of the stool and luckily onto his feet. Ringo was surprised his knees didn't give out immediately, but he was stable enough to turn around to glare at John who looked at him smugly.

"You can thank me later." John winked and then nudged Ringo towards the stage with his foot.

 _Fuck_. Ringo prayed for the floor to swallow him up in that moment, it almost felt like it had when he saw Spike's expectant gaze looking directly at him. He wished he could've just sat back down but not only did he not want to make a fool of himself, but also he knew John wasn't going to allow that. Slowly he made his way over to the stage, fortunately the room was so small so it didn't take him long, meaning he didn't have to be so conscious of not only Spike's but also the whole room's eyes on him. He could hear his heart thumping in his ears, his breath was uneven and he had to consciously stop his hands from shaking. Spike's grin had grown, his eyes slightly squinting as Ringo approached him sheepishly. John had begun whooping from where he sat which spurred on a few others in the audience. The whole thing felt like some strange fever dream, perhaps even a nightmare. 

Spike had gotten back up to his full height, usually he was only slightly taller than Ringo but now with the added platform of the heels he practically towered over him. Even in this submissive position, with his arms helplessly chained above him, Spike still oozed dominant energy as he watched Ringo fumble where he stood in front of him. Ringo had no idea what to do, his hands felt heavy and almost impossible to lift; watching someone strip was one thing, but actually _stripping_ someone was something else entirely. Up close he looked even more stunning, a faint blush lying on his cheeks which accentuated his high cheekbones perfectly, his dark eyelashes elongated with mascara and sparse glitter dotted across his fair skin. Ringo never considered himself as someone particularly kinky, but he was feeling a rush he'd never felt before. He had no idea how long he'd been stood there, how long he'd been staring up at Spike who's teeth were beginning to show past his curled lips. It must've been long enough for Spike to worry that it would start getting awkward if he didn't do something, and do something he did.

It all seemed to happen in a heartbeat, Spike turning himself around and bending downwards so that his bare arse - he was wearing yet another thong, which Ringo had quickly noticed - grazed against Ringo's crotch. Ringo let out a small gasp, bordering on a moan, as he watched Spike's tongue dart over his sharp tooth. He hadn't realised that an erection had already been growing since he'd laid eyes on Spike like this, but the sudden contact make him _very_ aware of how hard he was getting. It sent a bolt of adrenaline through Ringo's body and he was sure to make use of it, he didn't want to stand there like an idiot as much as it would've been the easiest thing to do, so began imitating what he'd seen the previous man doing and started unlacing the ribbon of Spike's corset. While he did this, or attempted to at least, Spike continued to move his hips and dip down slightly on the pole but never quite made contact. Both the ribbon and Spike's skin were soft to the touch, the silky feeling of the material put Ringo at ease somewhat. His fingers must've been quite cold because every time they brushed against Spike's skin he let out a quiet noise, Ringo didn't think he was aware he was even doing it. The unravelling had been far easier than Ringo had expected it to be, his desperation in the moment probably helped considerably, and soon the corset fell off of Spike's chest with ease. Ringo held it in his hand for a second and wasn't sure what to do with it: the skirt had clearly been tossed aside without much care but Ringo really didn't want to look inconsiderate like the previous man had. Spike seemed to notice Ringo's momentary dilemma and gestured slightly with his head for Ringo to throw it, which he did quite erratically. John let out a loud cheer at this and Ringo was suddenly very aware of his presence on the stage; had John been silent this entire time or had his brain just blocked it all out? It was enough of a falter in his mindset that Ringo decided it was best he got back to his seat. As much as he'd love to pick off each item of clothing piece by piece until there was nothing left, this alone had almost been overwhelming and he didn't want to risk looking like an idiot.

Ringo flashed a nervous smile to Spike who was still watching him with that same intense gaze, then hurried off the stage to clutch his drink eagerly. For a moment Ringo thought he saw a hint of disappointment in Spike's eyes as he turned away, and that when he got back to his seat Spike had been looking at him while he'd been walking, but he wasn't sure. John gripped Ringo with both hands and shook him excitedly, a massive grin on his face.

"I _told_ you tonight was going to be the one! And it's only just getting started." John giggled as he finally let go of Ringo.

As much as Ringo didn't like to admit when John was right, though it happened far more than anyone would've expected, his words in that moment couldn't have been truer. The night was only getting started, what followed was nothing Ringo could've anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wouldve posted this earlier but i got a little distracted 👀 so i apologise for the delay
> 
> i hope you enjoyed! im sorry to leave it on a lil cliffhanger but i wanted to get this chapter out instead of writing a massively long one but trust me things are about to get good (at least i hope so)
> 
> how i wish my biggest worry in life was that a crossdressing george was getting me too aroused in a room full of people :/ IF ONLY
> 
> while the world may be starting to go back to some kind of normal i hope everyone is staying as happy and safe as they possibly can ❤️ this pandemic isnt going anywhere anytime soon unfortunately so stay inside if you can!


	7. Conflict

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really didnt expect to write a whole chapter today but here we go i hope you enjoy!

Ringo tried to remain seated as another man walked up to the stage, he'd set to work taking Spike's shoes off then moved on to the stockings which resulted in a great deal of touching. Ringo _tried_ , but he couldn't.

"I need a smoke." Ringo announced, finishing his drink in one quick swig then pulling at the fabric of John's shirt.

John allowed himself to be dragged back through the club, he sipped his drink as Ringo hurried outside. Ringo felt like he could breathe better as soon as they got past the door, the night air filling his lungs which was quickly replaced with smoke. He almost dropped the cigarette in his frantic state, his hand continued to shake as he tried to light it. This had been a bad idea, he should've known. 

"You alright?" John asked in a quieter voice, lighting up his own cigarette.

Ringo simply nodded as he puffed desperately, he hoped smoking would help calm him down somewhat but it only seemed to be furthering his panic. John looked at him worriedly but didn't say anything further for the moment. It wasn't very often that Ringo got emotional, especially not around John, but he was finding it near impossible to keep whatever mixture of rage and panic was bubbling inside of him from surfacing. He wanted to go home, the awful sinking feeling in his stomach told him, but he knew that wasn't the answer. But if that wasn't the answer, what was? He was being an idiot, he had been an idiot this entire time, from the moment he returned to this place he'd begun digging himself into a hole. John could clearly notice the chaos going on inside Ringo's mind, his eyes distant and his brows tightly pressed together, so with his free hand he rubbed Ringo's shoulder lightly. Ringo's mind was desperate to spiral off into nothingness, becoming cloudy and heavy somehow, but the feeling of John against his skin grounded him.

"What's going on in there?" John let out a soft chuckle, he was never the best at dealing with emotional crises.

Ringo let out a heavy sigh and finally turned to look over to John, whose face was twisted with both uncomfortableness and pity "I really like him."

"Spike?" John asked, his voice was a far higher pitch than usual.

"Who else?" Ringo scoffed, he finished his cigarette and lit another one immediately.

"Shit." John sighed, letting go of Ringo and leaning up against the wall.

"Shit." Ringo repeated.

Letting the confession fall out of his mouth made him feel a little better, but it also made everything far more real and that was definitely a bad thing. He hadn't even admitted it to himself, not really.

"Why don't you tell him?" John suggested.

Ringo couldn't help laughing "Grand idea. Hello Spike, or whatever your real name is because I know absolutely _nothing_ about you, you might remember me from the two or three words I've said to you. Do you wanna get a drink?" Ringo mocked, his tone was becoming venomous.

John sniggered "I've gotten away with worse."

"But I'm not _you_ , John. I don't want some meaningless shag with some stranger. I want something _real_." Ringo leaned against the wall beside him.

"I know you're pissed, Ringo, but you don't have to take it out on me." John's tone was light, but Ringo could sense the hints of hurt behind his words.

"Well you're the one who brought me here in the first place, it's practically _your_ fault." Ringo mumbled.

"Yeah to cheer you up, you daft git. If I had known you were gonna fall head over heels with a fucking stripper, I wouldn't have invited you." John clicked his tongue in his mouth.

"I'm not head over heels." Ringo retorted, neither of them were looking at each other.

"I know you. You don't go around liking just anybody. When you do it's _serious_." John flicked the ash from the end of his cigarette "Don't beat yourself up about it, there'll be someone else."

"I'd believe you if it hadn't already been a year since I've even fucked somebody." Ringo sighed.

"Just fuck somebody then, _Jesus_. It's not a big deal. The reason you're so obsessed with that pretty boy in there is probably cause you're so bloody frustrated." John began raising his voice a little.

"I'm not _obsessed_." Ringo scoffed, he folded his arm across his chest while he smoked with the other.

"Sure." John said bluntly.

They smoked in silence for a while, if anybody walked passed them they never would've guessed they were lifelong friends. When John finished his cigarette he flicked it over to the drain and let out a sigh. 

"Are you gonna sulk all night? Cause if you are we may as well just go home now." John put his hands into his pockets, looking at Ringo sternly.

"I'm _not_ fucking sulking!" Ringo cried out "Would it kill you to be a little sympathetic for just a second? Would it?"

John blinked at him shocked, it seemed like he was waiting for Ringo to apologise but when that didn't happen he just let out a disappointed huff "I'll leave you out here to have your little tantrum, alright? I'll be inside when you've calmed down."

Ringo didn't have time to respond, not that he wanted to, as John hurried past him and slunk back into the club. Had anyone else spoken to him like that, Ringo wouldn't have stood for it, but it was John and he was used to it by now. Spats like this between the two of them weren't completely unheard of, although most of the time Ringo would de-escelate the situation before it got too intense but he didn't have the energy right now to do that. John was never comfortable being confronted with raw emotion, in all the years he'd known him he'd gotten a little better but that wasn't saying much. It was one of the many reasons Ringo tried to stay so positive all the time, because he knew if he allowed himself to wallow in negativity there wouldn't really be an avenue of escape because John was far too overwhelmed by his own emotions to cater to anyone else's. He didn't hold it against him, he understood what John had been through, but in this moment he wished he would've been offered more comfort than a mere hand on the shoulder.

Luckily the alcohol was clouding his mind somewhat or else what had just happened would've really upset him. Now he just had to figure out what to do. The smartest option was to go home, drink a ridiculous amount of water and pass out on his bed. But it had gotten past the point of making smart decisions. Ringo tried to calm himself as he finished his second cigarette but the ordeal with John had just riled him up further. More alcohol was the worst idea but it was the choice he made, stubbing out the cigarette and heading back inside. He just had to stop thinking, _that_ was the problem, and nothing stopped negative thoughts quite like alcohol did.

The club was still as rammed as before, which was a relief to Ringo because he didn't want to risk bumping into John just yet. Situations like this always resulted in Ringo apologising first, usually in person but sometimes over text, then John would be a little distant for the remainder of the day then would pretend like nothing had happened the following morning. Ringo was more than ready to apologise, just not yet. Instead he slumped into a seat at the further bar and ordered a drink to get him started.

On the main stage was a dancer in a school girl outfit, complete with pigtails and little bows on the socks. Ringo had always thought that it was a little creepy, but the audience seemed be enjoying it immensely, so he just turned his back and focused on the drink in hand. He expected that John had pulled Paul away for a private dance, so he at least had a little bit of time to himself. 

Ringo was three drinks down when he started to hear raised voices from somewhere in the corner. Part of him expected to turn around to find John picking a fight with someone, it would've been far from the first time, but instead there had been a different familiar face. Spike. He seemed to have a habit of cropping up both at the perfect and worst time, but right now it seemed that he was struggling far more than Ringo was. He'd changed his outfit from earlier: he was wearing the same heels and stockings but the corset and tutu were replaced with a white crop top and the tight, black shorts Ringo had seen him in before. Evidently Ringo hadn't been the only one to take notice of his enticing appearance, a man was stood beside Spike with his arm thrown over his shoulder which pulled them together closely. He was muttering something to Spike who looked immensely uncomfortable, his eyes were darting around nervously. For a moment Ringo just turned away, he didn't want to be caught staring, and returned to his drink. Surely if something bad happened the security would step in immediately. Surely.

As much as he was trying not to listen, Ringo couldn't help it, he couldn't stop himself from being a little concerned. He couldn't really pick anything out, but he could tell from the tones of both of their voices that the man was clearly very interested in one thing in particular, while Spike was trying to politely decline. When he turned his head once again things seemed to escalate pretty quickly: the man pushed Spike up against the wall roughly and began shamelessly pawing over him, Spike tried to push back against him but he looked utterly exhausted - no doubt from working nonstop. Ringo looked around rapidly to see if anyone else had taken notice of it, but with the crowds of people it was near impossible to see very far at all, Ringo had no doubt that this man had noticed that too before he decided to make his move. Even the bartender was far too preoccupied to pay attention to anything happening around them. Ringo turned back again where the two of them were still struggling against one another.

When Ringo had heard the phrase 'seeing red' he'd never understood it, always thought it was more of a figure of speech than anything with any real meaning. That was until that moment. He didn't remember getting up from the bar, or walking over to the corner where Spike was being assaulted, but he definitely remembered the feeling of the man's face against his fist. Ringo wasn't a violent person, it was one of the last words anybody would've used to describe him, but with everything that had happened so far on that night mixed dangerously with copious amounts of alcohol, he was far from passive. The man hadn't been expecting the punch, he hadn't even seen Ringo approaching him because he was so honed in on Spike and trying to get him to still in his grasp. He'd stumbled backwards, his hand immediately going up to grip his jaw. That easily could've been the end of it, if the man had just stood down and hurried away shamefully, but he didn't.

"What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing?" He yelled out, raising back up to his full height which was significantly taller than Ringo - he hadn't really considered that aspect when he'd been sitting down.

"Could ask you the same thing." Ringo felt the adrenaline rushing through his body, grinning excitedly.

"You're fucking dead, mate." The man began grinning too and it wasn't until that point that Ringo realised he might've been making a massive mistake. 

The man swung for Ringo and missed, somehow he was the drunker one. Spike screamed out, he was still pressed up against the wall looking fairly panicked. Ringo didn't try to punch him again, at least not the first time, he didn't _actually_ want to start a fight. But he didn't really have a choice when a fist flew towards his face again, he ducked out of the way fairly easily and threw another punch at the man's stomach. By this point people around had started noticing what was happening, yet there was still no sign of security. As most drunk crowds did when confronted with a fight, they began chanting and cheering loudly. Somehow the man got a grip of Ringo by the shoulders, he was a lot stronger than Ringo had anticipated, and he was essentially helpless as the man thrust his head down onto Ringo's own which sent a seering pain through his body - _that_ certainly wasn't going to help with the hangover in the morning. The man went to headbutt Ringo again but before he could even try, he buckled at the knees and stumbled backwards. Ringo whipped his head around quickly to see Spike had taken off his heels and was wielding them like a weapon, it would've been a comical sight if his ears weren't currently ringing. 

Security finally showed up by the time the man was regaining awareness, they gripped both him and Ringo and escorted them roughly to the entrance. Spike had been calling out something, Ringo figured to try and explain what had happened but they were far from interested. As he was shoved out onto the pavement, his feet skidding across the floor, Ringo only hoped that John hadn't seen the whole ordeal. Now was probably as good a time as any to text him an apology of sorts. 

**just got kicked out so im heading home  
** **sorry for being dramatic  
please let me know when you get home safe**

He stared at the words before sending them. A sigh left his mouth as he locked his screen and slid it back into his pocket, at least it hadn't gotten smashed in the chaos of it all. As he looked back upwards, expecting to see a very unhappy looking bouncer, he was surprised to see Spike standing there. His makeup had ran a little around his eyes from where they must've watered in distress. He was clutching his arms around himself in an attempt to shield from the cold. Instead of the usual smug grin he wore, he had a small, almost timid, smile across his lips. 

"Spike." Ringo breathed out instinctively. 

"Only after 9." He chuckled but it came out heavy and a little sad. 

"Are you alright?" Ringo took a step forward but halted before getting any closer "I'm sorry for all that, I don't really know what happened. I-" 

"Thank you." Spike interrupted him "I would've done him in myself if I could. But thanks for coming to my rescue." 

"N-no problem." Ringo stammered a little "You won't get in trouble will you?" 

Spike laughed, a genuine one this time "Should bloody hope not. Don't think you'll be getting back in tonight, though." 

"That's fine by me. I should be heading home anyway." Ringo sighed, the adrenaline was fading rapidly and he was beginning to feel tired. 

"Do you wanna get a drink?" Spike asked with a potential hint of nervousness "Feel like I owe you one." 

"You don't owe me anything, honestly." Ringo smiled at him, it felt like the first time they'd properly looked at one another "Don't you have to get back to work?" 

"Un-fucking-likely. I knew this whole thing was a bad idea, I _knew_ people were gonna get too grabby. I tried to tell Paul but he wouldn't listen." Spike sighed. 

"It was Paul's idea?" Ringo found it quite amusing. 

"Yeah." Spike's attention snapped back, he'd been drifting before "You know Paul?" 

"Not really. My mate John's one of his frequent customers, I believe." Ringo raised his eyebrows suggestively. 

"Oh yeah, John." Spike exhaled a quick laugh "Is he here tonight?" 

"Somewhere. We had a bit of a tiff so I think he's run off to Paul." Ringo tried not to sound bitter, but a tinge of resentment came out in his voice. 

"About what? If you don't mind me asking." Spike had begun shivering. 

Ringo didn't feel like he could answer, he never liked lying even if it was something small but he knew telling the truth in this moment would've been self-destructive. While he tried to think of something acceptable that they could've been arguing about outside a gay strip club on a Tuesday night, he just stated at Spike blankly. No thought came to him. 

"Nothing." Ringo said plainly, finally breaking eye contact "I should probably be heading home, don't wanna keep you out in the cold any longer." 

"Take me for a drink then." Spike retorted and it alerted Ringo for a moment "I just need to grab my things."

"Er- Are you sure? You _really_ don't owe me anything." Ringo felt his pace quickening.

" _You'll_ owe _me_ if you keep trying so hard to be polite." Spike winked then began turning his back "Just wait here, alright?"

"Okay." Ringo stood there dumbfounded as Spike headed back into the club.

Spike hadn't put his heels back on from when he'd attacked his attacker, he was holding them by the strap in two fingers. Ringo wondered whether he was going to change or not before they headed out. Then he felt like slapping himself for worrying about something so unimportant. Who _cares_ what he was going to wear? The reality of the situation was slowly sinking in, it had a thick barrier of alcohol to work through before it fully did. Spike had asked him out for a drink, that had _really_ happened. The last thing Ringo thought he needed right now was more alcohol, but if it meant getting to spend some normal time alone together - as normal as it could be between a man who was infatuated with a mysterious stripper who he'd just defended from a pervert - he'd do just about anything.

Spike had been gone for a while and Ringo began to panic a little: had he only been joking? Shit. Perhaps this was too good to be true after all. Ringo was considering slinking back to his place, it was a ridiculously long walk but he figured he could use the time to sober up, but before he could make a decision Spike reappeared from the darkness. He was wearing a black fur coat over his clothes which he'd evidently changed, the heels and stockings were gone to be replaced with colourful flares and dark boots.

"Sorry I took so long, Paul wanted a run down." Spike smiled warmly, it almost didn't look like him.

"It's fine." Ringo returned the smile.

"Know anywhere half-decent to go?" Spike asked as he slowly began walking, Ringo quickly moved to walk beside him.

"I dunno about decent, but I know cheap." Ringo chuckled, he was managing to fight back the nerves for now.

"Perfect." Spike plunged his hands into his pockets and sank a little into the warmth of his coat.

As silence began to fall between the two of them, Ringo's phone buzzed.

_i just heard what happened are you okay???_

**im fine  
ill call you tomorrow and fill you in**

_what are you doing now??  
i can come home with you if they wont let you back in_

**no no you stay  
im heading out for drinks**

_with who????  
_ _wait  
_ _NO WAY_

Ringo chuckled quietly at his phone then slid it quickly back into his pocket before allowing Spike the opportunity to read the texts, as much as Ringo doubted he was overly interested he didn't want to risk anything.

"That your mate?" Spike asked, he'd taken out a cigarette and had placed it between his lips which were still painted.

"Yeah..." Ringo worried he'd come across as rude already.

"He seems like a good sort." Spike commented, his words muffled as he held the cigarette between his hips while he lit it.

"You don't know the half of it." Ringo smiled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading once again! i hope you guys enjoyed this one ❤️ im not quite sure exactly where i want to go past this point but im sure ill figure something out!
> 
> side note please dont think im trying to vilify john in any way because i absolutely LOVE him mostly because he is so complex
> 
> i really wanna write some shorter one shot kinda things so if you guys have any requests please let me know on here or head over to my tumblr mithranqueersmusings! the quarantine boredom is really taking over and writing is a great distraction
> 
> once again im sending out love to all of you wherever you are ❤️ in times like this its important to find an escape of sorts so i hope im able to provide that a little!


	8. Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ringo and Spike go out for a drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me writing a chapter made up almost entirely of dialogue?? its more likely than you think

Ringo led the two of them to a bar himself and John had been to a few times, at first he was worried about picking somewhere a little seedy but then remembered Spike was probably used to that atmosphere, while that didn't meant he necessarily liked it. The amount of people was dwindling, by this point in the night people had either headed off to a club or retreated back home, but there were still a few people dotted about. Ringo led them over to a booth, as much as it might've given out the wrong idea he figured Spike wanted to be as far away from people as possible right now. They hadn't spoken too much on the walk over but it hadn't been awkward, neither of them really seemed to know what to say.

"Do you come here a lot?" Spike asked as he looked around, it didn't have the benefit of darkness to hide its flaws like The Helter Skelter did.

"Not by choice." Ringo chuckled as he shed off his jacket on the seat "John usually drags me out here. I'll get us some drinks, what'll you have?"

"Whiskey, please. A double if you would." Spike's lips curled a little "Feel like I'm gonna need more than a beer after all that."

"Whiskey it is." Ringo slammed his hand onto the table before getting up and heading off. 

Ringo tried to collect his thoughts at the bar but his mind was hazy, he wasn't sure if it was the vodka or the headbutt that was doing it. When he returned Spike was scrolling away on his phone, but he slid it back into his pocket as soon as he noticed Ringo standing there with the drinks. 

"Thanks." Spike accepted the drink gladly, drinking almost half of it before putting it back down.

Ringo just smiled and nodded in response, taking a sip of his own drink, it had gotten to the point where he couldn't even taste the alcohol in it anymore. 

"So." Spike began, knitting his hands together into fists on the table "I take it John isn't your boyfriend then, considering his deal with Paul. Unless you're just in a _very_ open relationship."

"No, no." Ringo laughed "We're just good friends, practically known him my whole life. I'm not with anyone at the moment."

"Fair enough." Spike went to take another sip of his drink.

"What about you? Are you wi-" Ringo began.

"I don't date my customers." Spike interrupted bluntly, it was a little harsh but the look in his eyes was gentle.

"Oh, no. I wasn't-" Ringo scrambled desperately.

"It's fine. I just thought I had to put that out there." Spike explained behind his glass.

"What if I just stopped going to the club? I wouldn't be your customer then." Ringo felt the alcohol speaking for him.

"Funny." Spike chuckled softly, but Ringo was far from joking "Dating as a stripper is hard enough, it's even _harder_ dating someone you've stripped for."

"Why's that?" Ringo asked, he wanted to do as little talking as possible to not risk saying the wrong thing.

"Well what's the use in getting naked for someone for free when there's people out there who will pay a shit-ton to see it?" Spike snickered.

"I never thought about that. What a terrible business decision." Ringo joined in with the laughter.

"In all seriousness though, it always goes the same way. I date someone and they say they don't mind the stripping but flash forward a few months and suddenly its 'Well you don't _need_ to strip, do you?' and expect me to make a decision." Spike explained "In the end I always choose stripping, because I like it _far_ more than anyone I've ever met."

"Geez, that must be rough." Ringo had already almost finished his drink, but he couldn't remember drinking it.

"Well what's your excuse?" Spike asked, a glimmer behind his eyes.

"Excuse?" Ringo raised an eyebrow.

"Why are you single? You're not a stripper I take it, but I bet you'd make quite a good one." Spike began to grin.

"Uh- Well if I knew the answer to that I wouldn't be single." Ringo laughed nervously, there was too much there for his drunk mind to unpack.

"And here we are with empty glasses. I'll get the next round." Spike didn't give Ringo time to protest, not that he intended to, as he was already heading off to the bar.

Ringo had to calm himself down. The worst thing to do in this situation was to read too much into what Spike was saying. Even if he was flirting, it didn't mean anything. He practically got _paid_ to flirt, more importantly to flirt without giving any real satisfaction. This was nothing more than a one-off thing, Spike clearly needed someone to take his mind off of what had happened earlier and Ringo just happened to be that person. That's all it was, nothing more. Spike returned quickly, Ringo noticed he'd ordered him a double without even asking.

"Are you alright? After what happened in the club, I mean." Ringo softened his tone a little.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. It's not like it's the first time it's ever happened." Spike sighed.

"Does it happen a lot?" Ringo asked.

"Not _that_ often. I'll get quite a lot of grabs or slaps on the arse and stuff, but nothing major happens that frequently." Spike answered, his voice was getting a little distant.

"That's awful." Ringo tutted. 

"Yeah, well... Customers are twats no matter what job you're in." Spike forced a smile.

"How long have you been doing it?" Ringo tried to slow his drinking down, after all Spike was practically sober.

"Three years, round about. Never done anything else." Spike explained "What about you?"

"Oh, I'm a drum teacher. Nothing too exciting." Ringo smiled abashedly.

"Don't expect you get a lot of arse slaps in that field." Spike began to smile too.

"Not as many as I'd like." Ringo regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, but they couldn't have been that bad because Spike laughed in response.

"Maybe we should swap for the day." Spike suggested, still laughing.

"I dunno... I don't think I could do what you do."

"Why not?"

"Not enough rhythm." Ringo chuckled "Or confidence for that matter."

"Not enough rhythm?" Spike repeated "You're a fucking drum teacher."

"It's not the same really. My drum timing is impeccable, if I may be so bold. But my dancing isn't great, and it _definitely_ isn't sexy."

"You think my dancing's sexy, then?" Spike leaned forward on one of his arms, pressing the hand against his cheek.

"Well- I wouldn't pay you if I didn't." Ringo tried to sound calm, he didn't know whether it worked or not.

"I thought you said you didn't pay me, John did." Spike stated, Ringo didn't want to think too much about the fact that he'd remembered their encounter so vividly.

"I guess that's true." Ringo felt himself warming up a little "That isn't to say I don't _like_ your dancing or anything, it was just John's idea is all."

"I'm only teasing." Spike's grin grew "You're so easy to wind up, you know that?"

"I wouldn't have been able to be friends with John for so long if that were true." Ringo couldn't bring himself to look Spike in the eye "I guess you just know what buttons to press."

"All part of the job description." Spike winked and Ringo was glad he hadn't been looking directly at him, because it probably would've made him wince.

"Why do you like it so much?" Ringo asked, he took another long sip even though he knew he shouldn't.

"What, teasing you?" Spike almost purred and Ringo almost blew bubbles into his drink.

"No, the- Er. The stripping." Ringo began tapping his foot under the table to try and channel the anxiety out.

"I'm good at it and it pays well. Why do you teach drumming?" Spike seemed very adept at switching his tone, making Ringo question if he even interpreted the previous sentence correctly.

"I'm good at it and it pays well." Ringo repeated with a smile "Probably doesn't pay as well as stripping, mind."

"No, probably not. Money isn't everything though, which is something people with a lot of money _love_ to say." The glimmer in Spike's eye was back.

"Drinks are on you then, eh?" Ringo raised his glass a little, it was emptier than he expected it to be.

"Well I'm supposed to be the one thanking you, so it's only fair. If I can get pissed at the same time then it's just a win-win." Spike raised his glass too, then paused and his eyes widened "I just realised, I don't even know your name."

Ringo paused for a moment too then laughed, of course he'd failed to properly introduce himself "It's Ringo."

Spike let out a rushed laugh "And I thought _my_ name was weird. Is that your real name?"

"No, it's Richard. Got the nickname when I started wearing these, and the name just stuck." He wiggled his fingers demonstrably, and couldn't help thinking about how Spike had ran his fingers along them "What about yours?"

"Now that would be telling." Spike took a final sip of his drink "What a convenient time for me to get another round."

"I haven't even finished this one." Ringo laughed, holding up his half-empty glass.

"Not my problem." Spike winked again before slinking off back to the bar.

Ringo found himself staring at Spike as he left _and_ while he stood at the bar waiting to be served. He was surprised at how well he was handling the whole thing, it actually felt surprisingly normal. It made Ringo sad to think that when this night was over it'd just go back to how it was before, only being able to see him in the club or on his phone. The more he drank the more beautiful he thought Spike was, even when his eye makeup had smudged from his eyes watering or the messiness of his hair which had a mixture of sweat and product twisting it around. He was _gorgeous_. Why did he have to be so gorgeous? It wasn't making things any easier on Ringo, that was for sure. As if his mysterious demeanour wasn't enticing enough, with his unreadable face for one second and then blunt words in the next. He didn't even stop himself from staring when Spike returned with the drinks, he didn't really see much point, and he didn't think it went unnoticed.

"They're closing up soon." Spike said as he sat back down.

"Really? What time is it?" Ringo rummaged around for his phone, when he unlocked the screen he saw multiple messages from John but they were nothing urgent - mostly him demanding answers for what was going on "At least neither of us have to get up early for work tomorrow." 

"Perks of the job." Spike agreed "Not quite sure the last time I got up before 11."

"You're living the dream." Ringo smiled. 

"Try telling that to my parents." Spike scoffed, when he saw Ringo looking at him expectantly he continued "At least it made being gay not a big deal, silver lining I suppose." 

"Are all the strippers at the club gay?" Ringo asked, he wasn't sure where the question came from. 

"Erm, I think so. Why? You got your eye on someone?" Spike made his words sound playful. 

"No, no I was just wondering." Ringo felt like he had to quickly explain himself but he wasn't sure why "Would be kinda funny if they weren't." 

"How did you know I was?" Spike began running his finger over the rim of his glass absentmindedly. 

"I didn't, until you said it just now." Ringo answered. 

"Just hoped then?" Spike's sharp teeth came into view as he smiled. 

"Huh? I- Wh-" Ringo stuttered "You're teasing me again, aren't you?" 

"Maybe. Why, do you want me to?" Spike leaned forward a little and Ringo gulped, then he laughed " _Now_ I'm teasing you." 

"God, you're evil." Ringo laughed too but he couldn't hide his nervousness. 

"So I've been told." Spike took a long sip of his drink. 

"Do you live nearby?" Ringo asked then quickly amended "Not because I'm trying to shag you." 

"What other reason could there be?" Spike's voice began melting into that smooth tone. 

"Cause if you live far I'll get you an Uber, if not I'll walk you back; if you wanted me to, course." Ringo explained, he was regaining his confidence somewhat. 

"Aren't you a proper gentleman. Makes a nice change." Spike murmured "I don't live too far away, I wouldn't turn down a chaperone. What are the chances of me getting assaulted two nights in a row?" 

"I'd rather you didn't find out." Ringo meant for it to sound jokey but it came across as serious. 

"Well should we head out after these?" Spike swirled his drink around in his glass "The bar's cut off anyway." 

"Sure thing." Ringo suddenly felt the urge to not take another sip. 

Ringo found himself dissecting the details of Spike's face: the way his cheeks sank in slightly, the faint hairs between his eyebrows, how his ears stuck out a little. He only hoped that Spike wasn't inspecting him so thoroughly, though he imagined he wasn't, as he currently didn't look his best. For those final moments they didn't talk, a sad kind of silence grew around them as the two of them gradually took small sips from their drinks. Yet neither of them looked away, at least not for too long. Not until their drinks were empty and they both slammed the glasses down on the table did the atmosphere return to normal. It had been a weird moment, Ringo had felt like he had started dreaming for a second. 

"Is that a real fur coat?" Ringo asked as Spike pulled the item in question back over himself. 

" _God_ , no. I don't even eat animals, let alone wear them." Spike scoffed with a smile. 

"You're a vegetarian?" Ringo asked, he felt satisfied with every piece of information he gathered. 

"Sure am. You're not then, I take it." Spike led the way out of the bar, Ringo followed closely behind. 

"No, I wanna be though. Can never seem to stick to it." Ringo admitted as he braced himself against the cold. 

"Fair enough." Spike's cold demeanour seemed to be returning, he began walking down the street and pulled out a cigarette "Want one?" 

Ringo accepted it with a quiet thanks. He couldn't think of anything to say, well he _could_ but all the things he wanted to say were either totally inappropriate or completely embarrassing. Was this really over already? He felt like he hadn't taken advantage of it, not as much as he could've. That was probably the reason he'd been single for so long, not seizing opportunities enough, but this wasn't the way he wanted to find that out. Spike seemed a little melancholy, Ringo wasn't sure whether it was the alcohol lulling him into a mood or that he simply was sick of Ringo's company - he really hoped it wasn't the latter, but he feared that it was. They passed The Helter Skelter as they walked, the bouncer greeted Spike and he reciprocated unenthusiastically. Ringo hoped John was alright, he'd be sure to check his phone the minute he was alone. 

"I don't do this very often." Spike broke the heavy silence unexpectedly as they turned a corner. 

"Do what?" Ringo asked.

"Let people walk me home, I don't really like people knowing where I live." Spike just looked on ahead, smoking his cigarette. 

"Is that because you don't let them or because people don't offer?" Ringo pried cautiously. 

"If I knew the answer to that, maybe I wouldn't be single." Spike let out a soft laugh, it was almost silent. 

"I don't have to take you up to the door if you don't want me to. I won't be offended." Ringo assured, he wondered whether Spike's change in mood had been because of this.

"I'd prefer that." Spike said then added after a pause "Thanks." 

They continued walked in silence for several minutes, nothing but the sound of their shoes against the pavement and the distant hum of the city. When they came to the next corner, Spike stopped suddenly and stubbed out his cigarette. Ringo took longer to notice that Spike wasn't beside him than he wished he had, but it at least made Spike laugh a little. 

"This is me." Spike said somewhat mockingly, using such a cliché. 

"Alright. Well, I best be finding out whether John's still at the club or passed out in a gutter somewhere." Ringo found himself feeling more awkward than ever. 

"What a good friend you are." Spike breathed out sharply, it appeared that the feeling was mutual. 

"I try." Ringo smiled nervously "You gonna be alright? '

"Unless my 65 year old neighbour is planning on jumping me, I think I can handle it." Spike smiled too, he looked almost scared Ringo thought. 

"I'll get out of your hair then. Goodnight." Ringo held his hand up and curled his lips inwards, then turned to leave. 

"George." He blurted out. 

"What?" Ringo turned back around, for a moment he thought Spike had forgotten his name. 

"My name's George." He explained, letting out a heavy breath after. 

Ringo felt a smile spreading across his face "Well, goodnight George." 

"Night, Ringo." George had been the one to turn to leave now, a small smile creeping onto his lips as he left.

Ringo stood there for a moment or two, just watching him walk away, before he realised how creepy that might look and quickly hurried down the street where he'd come from. He knew that none of this was going to sink in until the morning, or more accurately the late afternoon when his hangover had finally subsided. The initial plan had been to spend the night at John's but Ringo thought he had to be alone for the time being, but that didn't stop him from sending a text asking him where he was and whether he was still conscious. While he waited for a reply he walked back in the direction of the club, he'd give it five or so minutes before he ordered an Uber home for himself - he'd learned the hard way that waiting around for John to respond on a night like this could waste hours of his time. 

The smile never left his face as he walked. What a beautiful name that was. _George_. Ringo supposed he would've thought any name he had, he would've found beautiful. It was a definite improvement on Spike to say the least. Why George had told him his real name, Ringo didn't know but he figured it wasn't best to question it right now, rather he should bask in the happiness that the small piece of information gave him. Knowing his name was one step closer to something, although Ringo wasn't sure what, but it was a step and that was all that mattered. A step closer to him perhaps, to lovely George. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for reading! i know its mostly dialogue and barely any action but i was just having too much fun writing the two of them talking so sue me :/
> 
> my sleeping pattern is totally fucked because i keep writing these chapters well into the night please appreciate my sacrifice
> 
> i hope youre all doing well! the world is as crazy as its ever been right now (at least in my experience) so try your best to stay positive its what george wouldve wanted ❤️


	9. Paul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's perspective of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> both of my starrison fics started out without any mclennon in mind yet here i am writing a whole chapter for them :/// i guess theyre must made for each other

"I'll leave you out here to have your little tantrum, alright? I'll be inside when you've calmed down." John spat, quickly storming back into the club without giving a second glance to his friend.

What was his problem? Tonight was supposed to be _fun_. John always seemed to encounter that problem: whenever he was trying to have a good time, which was almost all of the time, someone had to go and ruin it by getting upset over something or making everything all serious for no real reason. He was sick of it, even if Ringo was his best friend he wasn't going to put up with tonight being derailed.

Ringo's words had stung him deeply, as much as he wasn't willing to admit it, even to himself. John had heard time and time again that he wasn't sympathetic enough, but he didn't view himself that way; more often than not people didn't even _tell_ him what their problems were then would suddenly explode out of nowhere and blame him for not noticing the fuse being lit. Ringo rarely did, this was one of the few occasions he let his emotions get the better of him and John didn't have the patience, not tonight.

There was only one person left who'd give him the time of day right now, and that was Paul. John shoved his way through the crowds more aggressively than he needed to, but it at least felt good to exert the anger somehow, and asked the first dancer he saw if they'd seen Paul. His name was Stuart, he'd been working at the club the longest therefore he knew John the longest; when he'd first started coming here Stuart had been his favourite, but that all changed when Paul came along. It had gotten past the point of John even needing to ask where Paul was, if any of the workers saw him approaching they immediately knew what question was going to fall from of his lips. That didn't stop John from asking though, just because it was a strip club didn't mean he'd forget his manners. Stuart had given an unsure answer, John always thought he was a little bothered about being replaced by Paul but that might have been his ego talking.

John continued his search, trying to ignore how sticky the carpet was as he tried to move around - whose idea was it to put a carpet in a strip club? It didn't take long to find Paul, he usually always had a crowd of a few people around him and tonight was no exception. As soon as Paul noticed John he politely ended whatever conversation he was having and headed over to him, as he always did. The spat with Ringo had made John forget the reason they were even here tonight, or at least why he was here: to see Paul like _this_. He looked absolutely breathtaking, if John didn't know any better he would've thought Paul was biologically female. Makeup sculpted his already feminine face, his long eyelashes even longer and darker, his plump lips even plumper. He was wearing the highest heels John had seen so far, a black platform boot which went all the way to his thigh. Over his body was a dusty pink chiffon robe, loosely flowing over his bare arms, which he hadn't shaved much to John's approval. This sight was exactly what he'd been waiting for, and now that he'd seen it all the frustration about what had just happened seemed to melt away.

"You alright, love?" Paul asked, he stepped away from the group he'd been talking to and brushed John's elbow to turn his body to face away from them "Fancy some privacy?"

John let out a weak laugh "I don't have any money." He admitted "I was kinda hoping Ringo was gonna bail me out."

Paul chuckled and John couldn't help watching his coloured lips curl "Is that why you brought him here, so he could pay for your dances?"

"Well it wasn't _not_ the reason." John felt himself easing up already, Paul's hand was still brushing against his arm.

"I can take my break and we can sit in the back, if you want to." Paul quietened his voice a little.

"Sounds like a plan." John never wanted to seem too enthusiastic when Paul suggested this, but he didn't think he did a great job of hiding it.

Paul nodded and started walking around the edge of the stage until he came to a door marked only for staff, he had to punch in a combination on the wall before the door unlocked. This was far from the first time that John had sat with Paul in the back room, in fact he struggled to even remember the first time it'd happened.

As much as John had wanted Ringo to believe he'd only been coming to the club recently, it was a gargantuan lie. John had been coming here for years and the majority of that time had been spent with Paul. The first time they 'met' unfolded with Paul approaching John who had been sulking in a booth surrounded by empty beer bottles. Paul had later explained that he went over to him because he had looked eccentric, with his multicoloured striped trousers and brown fur coat - not to forget the pin.

"Eccentric means one of two things: money or _trouble_." Paul had explained much later "I don't need to say which one I got from you."

John had been immediately taken with Paul, though he'd never tell that to anyone, with his doe eyes and honeyed voice. When it had gotten to the point that John couldn't afford any dances, Paul had offered a couple for free; the exact wording had been that it'd be put onto John's tab, but so much time had passed since then and no such tab had been paid off. Eventually though, Paul made it clear that this imaginary tab wasn't limitless and that he couldn't make a living off of charity. John had been determined to find a way around it but money hadn't been easy to come by for him at the time, no publisher was interested in his poems and he had no clue what to write his next book about. Paul had caught wind of this, namely because John had gotten drunk and complained about the abysmal condition of his life, and thus a strange new transaction began. Paul loved poetry, and there was no joy greater than discovering a work that nobody else had read before and through John he was able to experience this joy over and over again.

When Paul had suggested to John that he could pay him in poetry, he burst into a fit of laughter that didn't subside for several minutes at least. Once he realised Paul was being serious, the most productive writing period of his life began. The two of them never discussed the poems themselves, it all transpired like an illegal art deal as John would hand over the shabby piece of paper and Paul would accept it with a smile, slipping it into his pocket - or wherever he could fit it - then would lead John away to a private space. Unfortunately, the love Paul had for John's poems wasn't going to pay the bills either and even this had to come to a halt. Yet all was not lost, for Paul had discovered very quickly that when John was craving to see him, he wasn't really desperate for a lapdance, rather he just wanted some intimacy with someone, someone who couldn't express any judgement. This realisation led Paul to inviting John into the staff room, it wasn't completely unheard of for dancers to do this but it was mostly reserved for friends rather than customers, where the two of them would sit and chat over a drink or two.

It was policy to keep a bottle of alcohol in the staff room at all times, just in case of emergencies. But as the manager wouldn't allow anything to be taken from the bar, it meant an array of cheap and often obscure liqours being brought into the room. 

"What have we got tonight?" John asked as they took seats by the mirror - luckily Paul was always here to distract John's gaze so he could avoid looking at himself.

Paul stuck his head under the countertop and returned clutching a bottle "Amaretto, it looks like." He read.

"That's _barely_ alcohol." John scoffed as Paul set up two glasses in front of them "Well, at least I can drink it straight."

"Think we need to make a rule that if it's not at least 30% it shouldn't be under the counter." Paul suggested as he poured a healthy amount for the both of them.

John was already drunk enough, but he was never one to turn down free alcohol. They cheersed one another and drank a fair bit before slamming the glasses back down. There was nobody else in the room, as was often the case on a busy night like tonight. Before John had laid eyes on it, he'd expected the changing room to be some kind of kinky sex dungeon with whips and chains on the wall, so naturally he'd been very disappointed to see it was like any other changing room, except with a lot more glitter and a better smell. 

"So, do you wanna talk about it?" Paul asked, looking at John through the reflection of the mirror.

Their chats almost always started this way, John had noticed that very early on. Whatever answer he gave, Paul would always respect it. He never understood why Paul just let him ramble on about his problems, or expect Paul to ramble on to distract him from said problems. In the end he supposed it was cheaper than therapy, he could only suppose since he'd never _actually_ been.

"I'd love to, but I can't really. Ringo would kill me." John explained with a sullen look.

"I understand." Paul smiled softly "Whatever's happened I'm sure it'll be fine, you've been friends forever after all."

"For sure." John mumbled, and that was Paul's cue to begin the distractions.

"Tonight's been a right ballache, no pun intended." Paul began inspecting himself in the mirror "When I suggested it, everyone was all for it and now it's all 'Paul, my feet hurt' or 'Paul, this bra makes me look fat'."

"I think it was a great idea." John took another swig of his drink, his eyes were focused on Paul's reflection.

"Oh yeah? And how would you rate the illusion out of ten?" Paul smirked.

"Ten." John answered bluntly "If I was straight, I'd be having a right crisis after seeing you."

"It's a good thing you're not then." Paul rummaged around in a bag that was on the counter, eventually pulling out some mascara and touching up his makeup "I've just had the _best_ idea."

"You'll never charge me for a dance again?" John suggested with a grin.

"You wish, love." Paul winked "No, what I _actually_ had in mind was trying some of this makeup on your lovely face."

John paused "And why would you wanna do that?"

"It'll be fun! Don't you want to see what you'll look like properly done up? I bet you'd make a pretty girl." Paul urged, he was already laying out his makeup out.

"I've worn makeup before, Paul." John stated somewhat defensively.

"Eyeliner and tinted lipbalm _doesn't_ count." Paul retorted, gesturing with the tube of mascara.

John sighed in resignation, scooting his chair a little closer to Paul's, who beamed in excitement. It was moments like this that made John want to question exactly what this dynamic was, he wanted to avoid the word relationship at all costs. On the one hand they saw one another every week or so, always dropped whatever they were doing to speak to the other and had spent hours of time doing nothing in particular besides chatting and laughing. Yet they'd never exchanged numbers, they didn't even know each other's last names and neither of them had explicitly expressed that they enjoyed spending time with one another. Sometimes John thought Paul did it merely to keep him as a loyal customer, and once he realised he wasn't going to be getting any money from him in the future he'd drop him in an instant. But here Paul was spending his only break trying to cheer John up, he didn't even need John to tell him that something was wrong, he just _knew_. Perhaps John had gotten so angry with Ringo because he'd been able to admit what John had never been able to. _Perhaps_.

The two of them continued talking and joking with one another as Paul delicately painted John's face. He'd almost finished John's second eye when his phone suddenly vibrated. John didn't need to check it to know it was Ringo, most likely apologising, and so he paid no notice to it. All of this would've blown over by the morning, he saw no point in dealing with it now.

"Aaaand _done_." Paul announced proudly, he leaned back in his chair to get a better look at his work and his smile only grew.

"This better not inflate my ego any further, I've already got enough issues because of that." John prefaced before he turned to look at himself in the mirror.

The sight absolutely stunned him. Naturally he had to move a little closer to the mirror so that he could get a proper look, a strip club was the _last_ place he'd ever wear his glasses. Most interesting was how Paul had almost painted his own face onto John's, it was like looking at some strange feminine hybrid of the two of them. What John loved most was the eyes, how smoky and alluring Paul had made them.

"After all these years of people telling me to go fuck myself, I can safely say that I _would_." John turned his face from side to side to get a full view.

"You look gorgeous, John. But that's nothing new." Paul's eyes were filled with joy as he watched John's reaction.

"You're proper good at this, maybe when you get too old for stripping you could be a make up artist." John suggested jokingly which earned him a glare from Paul.

"The day I get too old for stripping is the day you earn a steady wage." Paul quipped back, the two of them began laughing before the door suddenly opened dramatically.

Behind the door was Stuart looking fairly alarmed, it was no surprise that he knew to find the two of them back here. He didn't even question why John was currently covered in makeup, it wasn't the strangest thing he'd caught them doing. 

"Bloody fight's just broken out." Stuart explained as he walked into the room, Paul immediately rose up from his seat.

"What happened?" Paul asked desperately.

"I dunno. Two lads just started going at it, think Spike might've been involved." Stuart explained "They've both been kicked out now, it's all fine. Just thought you'd like to know."

"Nothing worse than missing a good fight." John added, he thought that Stuart had been speaking more to him than to Paul.

Just as Stuart opened his mouth to speak, the door opened again, and Spike walked in. He paused when confronted with the sight of everyone looking at him, as though they'd been expecting for him to show up. 

"If you stare any longer I'll have to charge." Spike made his way over to his locker and began to change, he didn't seem phased by John being able to see him.

"What happened? Are you alright?" Paul walked over to him, inspecting his face and arms for any damage.

"I'm _fine_. Some prick just got a little too big for his boots and someone stepped in to help." Spike turned to look at John "It was your friend, actually."

"Not very bloody likely." John gaped "Are you sure?"

"Short guy with a beard. Wears a lot of rings." Spike detailed "That's him isn't it?"

"Shit." John sat back in his chair and let out a heavy sigh "Didn't think he'd go _that_ mental."

"Someone's gonna have to cover my last dance cause I'm _not_ going out there again tonight." Spike ignored John's words and focused on Paul and Stuart "I'm sick of these creeps, I tell you."

"I'll cover for you." Stuart responded almost immediately "Are you gonna be alright?"

"I can get you an Uber home." Paul chimed in, looking around for his phone.

"No, no, it's fine." Spike paused and took in a deep breath "I just need to get out of here."

He'd changed out of his previous outfit, it couldn't really be described as clothing, then headed back over to the door. With a quiet muttering of goodbye, he was gone. Stuart soon followed after him, he didn't tend to stick around too long when Paul and John were on their own. Paul sighed as he sunk back down in his seat, any time anything like this happened it always took a toll on him; it just brought up memories of all the times something similar had happened to him. Now wasn't the time to dwell, not when he was meant to be making John feel better, who was currently gazing off into space.

"Are you gonna go looking for him?" Paul asked, more of a suggestion than a mere question.

"Nah." John sighed, picking up his recently refilled glass "Sounds like he's in a right state, I'd probably only make him worse."

"You should text him at least, it'll make him feel better." Paul pressed his hand onto John's knee.

John paused "You're right." He breathed then pulled his phone from out of his pocket.

Ringo responded almost immediately which was a good sign, it meant he wasn't completely pissed off with John. As much as he knew Ringo wasn't going to take him up on his offer to head home with him if he'd been refused entry, he offered it all the same. All this was very much rehearsed, up until the next message Ringo sent. He was going out for drinks? With who? _Wait_.

"No fucking way." John almost gasped which alarmed Paul.

"What? What?" Paul leaned forward to try and get a view of the phone. 

"He's going for drinks with Spike." A huge smile spread across John's face "Ringo, you bastard."

Paul didn't respond immediately, he took a moment to process exactly what John had revealed with those words and how in retrospect everything then made sense. Instead he picked up the rapidly emptying bottle and topped up their glasses.

"Good thing we've got our own drinks here." Paul said somewhat quietly, then picked up his glass to cheers with John once more.

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be." John mocked, but both of them knew all to well that he wasn't joking, it was probably the most genuine thing he'd said all night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really didnt have much planned out for this chapter but i think it turned out okay? im nowhere near as confident writing john or paul but i wanted to explore their relationship a little bit more
> 
> thanks so much for reading! im yet again finishing chapters at 2am im starting to think this is just my routine now i just have to accept it
> 
> im really not sure where i want to head with this fic from here on out so if you have any suggestions id love to hear them!
> 
> sending happiness and love to you all ❤️ remember to give your brain a rest, drink some water and straighten your back! (this is a message more to me than anyone else)


	10. Solitary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ringo braves The Helter Skelter on his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me writing every time george shows up: did i mention that he's BEAUTIFUL
> 
> also thank you all so so much for 1000 hits! im glad that in these unsure times we can all connect over our love/thirst for the beatles
> 
> big big thanks to the wonderful Salomé (SittingOnACornflake) for helping me with an idea for this chapter ❤️ shes recently written a wonderful mclennon oneshot so check it out!

John had been right about the whole thing blowing over by the following morning, but it was most certainly helped by the support The Helter Skelter - whether intentionally or not - had provided for the two of them. Ringo headed over to the John's in the afternoon, after a quick text to confirm he was awake, with a coffee and a few sweet treats. Both of them reenacted the same scene as they always did, John opening the door with a hard face and Ringo with a sheepish smile. Then they'd both laugh and Ringo would be pulled into a tight hug before they headed off into one of John's three rooms - excluding the bathroom of course, that'd be weird - without any acknowledgement about what they'd actually fought about.

Ringo had recounted his night with George, he had been getting _very_ used to that name, excitedly and John listened intently, only interrupting at the end of almost every sentence with a quick quip or suggestive comment. Everything was back to normal before they knew it, not including their unexpected and only partially acknowledged adoration of certain strippers.

"I just don't know why he told me his name." Ringo mused after drinking his coffee, he'd already been up for hours but he expected it made John feel validated if he pretended to be struggling with a hangover too.

"I can't think of any reason other than he _likes_ you, Ringo." John explained "Well I could probably think of a few, but nothing realistic."

At first Ringo had been hesitant to relay the information George had told him right before they'd parted ways, but he didn't want to keep secrets from his best friend and he knew that John would be able to keep his mouth shut, a surprising and selective trait of his. 

"It's not like it matters either way, he seemed pretty firm about not dating his customers." Ringo sighed.

"Well he said he won't _date_ them, but did he say anything about fucking?" John raised an eyebrow suggestively which made Ringo scoff.

"I imagine it all falls under the same rule." Ringo rolled his eyes playfully.

"You should never assume Ringo, a lot of good opportunities are lost by assuming." John said with an air of superiority.

"What did you get up to anyway? I've had enough of trying to decode _my_ night." Ringo shook his head dismissively.

"Oh... Not a lot." John drew out his syllables "Went to get a dance off Paul, drank a fair bit then headed home."

It was easy to tell when John was lying, at least for Ringo it was. If his suspicious demeanour wasn't enough to go off, Ringo could also see faint traces of rubbed off makeup on John's face and it didn't take a detective to figure out what that meant. Unless John had suddenly decided to pursue a career in drag last night, which Ringo knew wasn't a possibility because John certainly would've made a huge scene about it, he must've been spending time with Paul, or at least one of the dancers. The fact that George knew John was enough information in itself, because Ringo knew he'd never had a dance from him therefore Paul must've filled him in; exactly _what_ he filled him in about Ringo wasn't sure, knowing John was lying was one thing but figuring out the whole truth was another entirely.

"Fair enough." Ringo simply said, there was no use in drawing attention to it "You up for going again this Friday? I've got all these school days booked this week and I just _know_ it's gonna drain me."

John continued to shift in his seat, the spark in his eyes fading considerably "I don't think I can."

"Oh, alright... What about the weekend then?" Ringo tried to act like he hadn't noticed the change in behaviour.

"No can do, I'm afraid. My mate's breathing down my neck about this poetry book, so I really need to get it done." John revealed, he wasn't looking at Ringo directly.

"Well what ab-" Ringo began.

"My dear Ringo, I can't hold your hand forever. You've gotta spread your gay wings and fly, particularly in the direction of the strip club." John began returning back to his normal self, at least the self that reflected everything potentially serious with a joke.

"I guess you're right. Just feels a bit more dodgy that way, you know? Like I'm not just there for a laugh, I'm there-" Ringo tried once more. 

"To watch the love of your life take his clothes off?" John quickly finished the sentence which earned him a kick under the table.

"I bloody hate you, you know that?" Ringo asked with a huge grin on his face.

When Ringo finally returned home, he couldn't help still worrying about John somewhat. He knew the reason hadn't been a complete fabrication, after all there had been countless occasions in which John struggled to meet the deadlines for his work, but that had almost never stopped him from going out and having a good time. Ringo suspected that his night hadn't been the only one resulting in partially unwanted revelations.

The following days unfolded agonisingly slowly, the hot weather didn't help nor did the mania of the children or the incompetence of the teachers. Surprisingly one of the teachers had been male this time, but even more surprising had been how little Ringo seemed to care. If the man had been interested in him or not he didn't know, he'd hardly paid any attention to him. He had to admit to himself that this _thing_ with George wasn't merely a fleeting obsession, rather it was a real interest and a more than intense attraction.

When Friday finally came Ringo kept trying to talk himself out of it, but ultimately failed each time. The alternative would've been sticking a cheap meal in the microwave, or he could've been adventurous and ordered takeaway, and falling asleep in front of the television to reruns of Friends or a peculiar series which tried to pin every major world event on aliens. It wasn't a hard decision to make. So he showered and picked out a nice enough outfit, he didn't want to look like he was trying _too_ hard. He decided to drive because it ensured, or at least attempted to, that he wouldn't drink too much throughout the night. It definitely felt strange without John by side, he hadn't realised how much of a support he'd been until he was absent.

The club was rather busy, but nothing compared to the previous time Ringo had been there. As he walked inside the bouncer gave him a suspicious look which didn't help his nerves one bit, but he managed to remain composed as he headed over to the bar. One drink was alright, surely, it'd help calm his nerves and at least give him something to do with his hands. After he ordered his drink he asked the bartender whether Spike was working tonight, he'd been very cautious of slipping up with the names, after all he didn't know whether any of George's colleagues knew.

"I dunno." He answered uninterested, he only spoke more when Ringo looked at him confused "We don't really talk to the dancers."

Ringo just nodded his head and sat back on the stool, looking around nervously. The horrible fear began solidifying that George might not even be working tonight. If he earned as much money as Ringo suspected, surely he didn't work every single night. He'd noticed enough different dancers every night to suppose that the amount of staff was fairly large. Ringo tried not to worry too much, after all he didn't know that was the case, but it was hard not to try and plan out the best possible course of action if it _was_ the case. The normal thing to do would be to simply find another dancer, to watch the shows on the stage and go home without any fuss. But the thought of paying someone else for a private dance felt wrong, it almost felt like cheating, which Ringo knew was utterly ridiculous but he couldn't help it. He finished his drink rapidly then set off in search for an answer, a quick glance to the main stage was all he needed to know that there was nothing of interest for him there. As he worked through the crowd he finally spotted a familiar head of hair, even if it wasn't the one he wanted it was better than nothing. The closer he got he could see Paul speaking to a group of customers, the drinks tray clasped in his hands. Ringo hung around the outside of the circle rather awkwardly until Paul noticed his presence, for a second he seemed confused but soon he was smiling and politely excusing his way out of the conversation.

"Ringo. How can I help you, love?" Paul asked with a smile, his smell was very eniticing.

"Hi. Sorry to disturb you like that, I just wanted to know if Spike was working tonight." Ringo explained, he was still carrying around his empty glass.

"Oh." Paul's eyes lit up knowingly "He sure is, think he's out back smoking right now. He's up on stage next, actually."

"Perfect. Er- I mean, good. Fine." Ringo stammered which only made Paul's smile widen.

"Is John with you tonight?" Paul was trying to sound unbothered, and while he was doing a far better job than Ringo it wasn't faultless.

"He's not, actually. Had some poetry stuff to take care of." Ringo explained, he thought that'd be enough information to satisfy Paul but he continued to stand there waiting "His friend's putting together a collection, asked John to write something for it."

"I see, well that's great news. Isn't it?" Paul didn't give Ringo time to respond, he flipped his tray upwards and took Ringo's empty glass from him "Let me take that off you, love. Enjoy the show." And so he parted with a wink.

Ringo ordered another drink, he was pushing his luck at this point but his conversation with Paul had put him a little on edge. There was nothing left to do now but wait, he took a seat on the outer ring of chairs and tried to enjoy the current dancer's performance: they were on all fours twerking in a rather cheap looking gold thong. It wasn't Ringo's cup of tea, that was for sure, and so his attention drifted over to his phone. He didn't want to look rude but if he watched any longer his facial expressions might've been a little too revealing of what he really thought.

**paul asked where you were**

There was nobody he could really message in this moment other than John, any Snapchat selfie might've given too much away, and there was nobody else who'd respond quick enough to justify his continued staring at this phone. 

_what did you say??_

**is there something I shouldve said?**  
**or not said?**  
**i said you had your poetry thing to do**

_okay cool_  
_hows georgie_

**havent seen him yet  
** **waiting for him to come on stage**

_ooo exciting_  
_wish i could be there_  
_now get off your phone you rude prick_  
_fill me in on everything after_

**sure thing**

Ringo hesitantly slid his phone back into his pocket, focusing entirely on his drink as he waited for this performance to finally end. Luckily it wasn't too long before the twerking ended, not without cheers from the crowd who threw money onto the stage. The announcer announced, as was their job, that Spike was the next one to grace the stage. Ringo had never figured out exactly where the DJ was in the club, or if there even was one at all, perhaps one of the dancer's just put on a voice before each performance to give it a sense of occasion. The pounding music of the previous dance had been replaced by a gentle piano and sultry voice, it was 'Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy' by Queen; not the song Ringo had expected to hear in a strip club but it was definitely welcome. Not as welcome as George's presence, of course, as he stepped out onto the stage and Ringo instinctively held his breath.

It was strange seeing him like this again, the image that had been visiting Ringo constantly over the past few days had been the more casual version. It was like he was seeing him for the first time all over again, but this time he wasn't going to run away, he was going to sit right here and enjoy every moment. He was wearing a harness across his chest, of lilac leather, and grey baggy trousers, almost harem style, as they clung to his slim calves perfectly then loosened up towards the top. His hair was loose, poofing up a little at the top as though he'd just dried it. Ringo felt his mouth lying open a little, and had to shut it by drinking more.

George stepped out on the stage slowly, letting the lights reflect off the metal of his harness and shine off his bare skin. As the beat began to kick in, he moved his hips rhythmically, his hand immediately going to the pole in the center as he dipped low with the legs spread wide open as the falsettos of the song started - Ringo had always enjoyed this song, there was something a little sensual about it but it was being taken to a whole new level now. George didn't stay on the stage for too long, instead he moved out into the audience. Yet it wasn't the same as it had been before, teasing each customer just a little and collecting money, instead he was searching for something, or someone for that matter. It made Ringo a little anxious, but part of him said that he wouldn't be noticed in the back row and someone else would catch George's eye long before he'd even realised he was here. This was one of the few occasions that Ringo had been incredibly pleased to be wrong.

George's eyes flitted over the people in the audience fairly quickly and rather dismissively, while he kept up the sultry movements of his hips and hands. That was until he spotted Ringo who of course was staring right back at him. George's eyes didn't move any further, not bothering to see who else the room had to offer. In that moment it felt like the room and everyone around them vanished, like it was just the two of them looking at one another as George slowly made his way over, even the music began to fade away. What shook Ringo out of this haze was the feeling of George tugging at the neck of his jumper, his fingers brushing against Ringo's skin just slightly. Ringo wasn't sure how he was able to stand up, he felt like his entire body was made of lead, but the next thing he knew he was being lead over to the stage where a chair was now sitting. The crowd had begun cheering, just as they had the last time, but Ringo was determined to not allow this moment to pass him by, to not get into his head and ruin it all for himself.

George didn't move his hand off of Ringo the entire time, somehow managing to walk backwards to the stage while his fingers pulled at the fabric of Ringo's jumper. Even when he guided Ringo down into the chair, his hands ghosted over Ringo's shoulders gently until he was back in front of him. The first thing Ringo noticed was how bright the lights were, he wondered how anyone was able to pull a sexy face when being heavily blinded, but it helped with any potential stage fright because he could hardly see an audience out there. Ringo had no idea if there was anything he was meant to be doing, his hands just lay flat on his thighs like he was sat waiting for the bus. George had that same confident grin on his lips, but it didn't frighten Ringo as much as it used to, rather it made him smile too.

Wearing a jumper had definitely been a mistake, not only because of the intense heat radiating from the lights but with George kneeling down in front of him he couldn't help but start to sweat. The song was still playing even though Ringo was certain far too much time had passed for that to be true. George began running his hands slowly up Ringo's legs which were conveniently spread apart, but he never pressed down too hard and it was the lightness of his touch that was making Ringo's skin itch. George looked up at him directly, his eyes dark and slightly closed. Ringo would give anything to see him like this again, away from the club and all this confusion, just the two of them together and _alone_. George's hands never got too close to Ringo's crotch, for which he was very grateful for because he could already feel himself hardening and George was the last person he wanted to know. Right before his fingers brushed just a little too high, he lifted himself back up to his full height and looked down at Ringo somewhat mischievously. Then he turned around, taking a small step backwards so that he was hovering over Ringo's lap just slightly, and then began to grind his hips slowly down. The sound of the crowd cheering broke out again, it was a sobering reminder that George wasn't doing this for Ringo, he was doing it to put on a good show.

It was impossible not to look at George's arse from his angle, luckily Ringo didn't feel overly guilty because he was wearing more clothes than he usually did. The bagginess of the pants left a little to the imagination but Ringo could still somewhat make out the roundness of George's cheeks beneath the fabric as he moved. Just as Ringo was very much making peace with this view, George turned around again so that his crotch was right in Ringo's face. Even though he'd experienced this before, it didn't make it any easier. If anything, everything that had happened since that first lapdance made this all the harder, in more ways than one.

George swiftly moved his right leg upwards towards his own chest without faltering, making Ringo realise very easily why they were referred to as exotic _dancers_ , then pressed his foot down onto the tiny space left on the seat between Ringo's thighs. It was painfully close to his almost fully hard cock, something that Ringo doubted was lost on George. He moved his other leg slightly outwards then began thrusting his hips upwards again, more aggressively this time. That should've been enough, enough to satisfy whatever urge George had when he pulled Ringo up there, but he was far from done. One of Ringo's hands was gently picked up, he expected for it to be placed against George's bare chest as it had been before, but it moved up further until one of his fingers was pressing against George's lips. There was a pause for just a moment, it couldn't have been longer than a few seconds, where George cocked his eyebrow to give Ringo a chance to back out. In response Ringo just licked across his top lip, it hadn't been entirely intentional because his mouth was ridiculously dry, but it wasn't a complete accident either.

The heat of George's mouth was a shock to Ringo's system as his finger slipped inside, ring and all. He was still thrusting at this point but Ringo hardly noticed, his eyes were completely fixed on the way George's lips wrapped around the digit. It probably didn't last as long as Ringo felt it did, or as long as he _wanted_ it to, but it was safe to say that he was fully hard now. George twirled his tongue around the finger skillfully, before he slowly pulled his mouth away and let it fall out with a small popping sound. His foot also moved off of the seat, but didn't move too far as it settled on the floor still between Ringo's legs.

George began to lower himself again, swirling his hips as he did so, scooting his feet carefully closer towards Ringo. He didn't know what was so different about this time, Ringo didn't want to convince himself that it had anything to do with George liking him in any way, but it was difficult to dismiss it completely; especially when instead of George hovering over Ringo's thigh as he'd expected him to, he settled directly down onto him. Ringo let out an involuntary soft moan, it was quiet enough that George might not have heard it. As if the contact wasn't enough, George practically fucking himself on Ringo's thigh, he raised one of his hands to brush against the stubble on Ringo's cheek. This simple touch brought Ringo's gaze up to meet George's, he was looking incredibly pleased with himself and when he caught Ringo looking at him he grinned wolfishly revealing his sharp teeth.

George's hand began to trail downwards slowly, skimming over Ringo's neck then onto his chest until it came back down to just above Ringo's groin. He paused for a moment, as he knew he shouldn't go any further than this but the wrecked look on Ringo's face spurred him on. It wasn't much, just a quick brush of his fingertips over Ringo's erection, but it was enough to make Ringo gasp. He'd nearly forgotten that people were watching them, but the continued cheers made it hard to block them out entirely.

George moved his hand onward onto the inside of Ringo's thigh, but he could only reach so far from his current position. Ringo thought George was beginning to look a little exasperated, but it could've just been an act. His whole body felt like it was on fire, like he was ready to explode at any moment. It couldn't last forever though, this moment, as much as Ringo wanted it to. Soon George was picking himself back up, moving in front of Ringo once more and reaching down to his knees while he pushed his hips backwards to give yet another glorious view of his arse. But that had been the last of it, George then began walking off the stage with a quick wink and grin.

Ringo sat in the chair for longer than he probably should've but he didn't feel like he was ready to move. Eventually he was able to stumble back to where he'd left his drink, he downed it immediately. As he walked past groups of people he received a few pats on the back, as though he'd achieved something. 

What he should do next was difficult to decide, he didn't feel mentally or physically prepared to get a private dance from George but heading home immediately felt a little strange, even when there were _pressing matters_ to attend to. What he wanted to do, that was easy: he wanted to take George out for another drink, to take him back to his place and fuck him like it was the only thing he'd ever wanted, and in this moment it felt that way. Alas, that was never going to happen. It was hard to ignore that fact when he handed a £20 note to the bartender to pass along to Spike, he managed to not let the name slip even in his dishevelled state. Whether the bartender was going to pocket the money or not wasn't a massive concern to Ringo, it was the quickest way he felt he could get the money along without hanging around desperately for a chance of seeing George again.

The drive home had been almost painful, Ringo still wasn't certain that he'd managed to catch his breath. Before he'd even closed the front door behind him, he was loading up George's Onlyfans profile and unbuckling his very restrictive belt. If fantasising about having George all to himself was all he could do, then so be it, he was going to let his mind run _wild_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me posting a chapter before midnight?? absolutely wild
> 
> thanks so much for reading! ill be moving back up to uni in a week and i highly doubt ill finish this fic before then but ill be sure not to abandon it (fingers crossed)
> 
> wherever whoever or whenever you are i hope youre doing well ❤️


	11. Anonymity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ringo sends George a message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me sat trying to think of a noun for the chapter title every time 🤔🤔
> 
> bit of an unusual chapter this time i hope you guys like it!

Ringo spent a lot of time late at night scrolling through George's Onlyfans profile over the next few days; he was eager to go back to the club but he didn't want George to _know_ that he was eager, so he made do with the plethora of erotica George had supplied. Each time Ringo loaded up the page his eyes would always focus on the 'Message' button, he'd stare at it for a while and debate whether or not he should do it. How likely it was that George would reply was completely unknown to him, but it was definite that if he didn't even send a message then he'd never get a reply. Ringo's account was entirely plain, with no reference to his actual self in any way, so it wasn't as though George would know it was him. But Ringo was still hesitant, he didn't like that this was the only method of contact available to him nor that he'd be hiding behind an anonymous profile. Yet every time he'd load up the page his thumb would hover over it for a few seconds, his curiosity was beginning to overpower the desire to even speak to George. What would he even say?

John was still busy working on his poetry, how busy he actually was Ringo would never truly know, so there was no chance of dragging him along to The Helter Skelter. Going alone would look too strange, Ringo had decided, he was so afraid that George would catch on to exactly how much Ringo liked him. Messaging him was the only viable option left, because even wanking himself off every night to George's photos was beginning to lose its novelty.

It was late at night and Ringo lay in bed in his boxers, it was far too hot to sleep in anything more at the moment. The light had been switched off and so began the nightly routine, loading up George's photos and asking himself the same question: did he dare message him? Ringo wasn't sure what convinced him that night, whether he was just sleepy enough that his inhibitions had begun to waver or he was really getting that desperate, but something fuelled him on.

**hey**

Ringo stared at his own words long enough that his vision began to blur. Was that enough? He had no idea what his aims were with this, he just wanted _something_. Even if George went on a rant about how he hated weird creeps messaging him late at night, at least it'd be something. A few minutes passed and Ringo just lay there clasping his phone in both hands. Was George even going to reply? He could've been working, or busy doing something or someone else, for all Ringo knew. But he felt like if he stared at the screen it'd somehow make it more likely that George would reply. His eyes began to droop when his phone suddenly vibrated, he worried that it was another of John's late night texts, but it wasn't.

_hi there_

Now what? Ringo wasn't exactly sure what the etiquette of this situation was. He'd had his fair share of dirty conversations over text, but is that what this was? Surely it wasn't just somewhere to talk about the weather.

**how are you?**

Ringo almost cringed when he sent the message, if George didn't respond after this he wouldn't have blamed him. It was like paying for a prostitute only to sit them down and ask them if they'd seen any good films lately. At least Ringo knew George wasn't working, he wouldn't have guessed that he'd waste his breaks messaging potential weirdos, but then he again he didn't have a clue.

_just peachy  
and yourself?_

**better now**

A little cliche, not to mention desperate, but overthinking about his responses would've been a sure way to kill the conversation completely. 

_arent you sweet?  
what you up to?  
_

**just lying in bed  
**

_alone?_

**as always  
what about you?  
**

_sitting in the bath_ _  
__want to see?_

**yes**

Ringo had written 'please' at first, but realised how pathetic that might look. The speed of the replies had been rapidly increasing up until this point, and in this lull Ringo couldn't help getting a little excited knowing that George was taking a photo of himself at this very moment; even if he wasn't in the bath at all and this pause was a result of him scrolling through his photos to try and find one that matched the fictitious scenario, Ringo didn't care, he was going to allow himself to be optimistic. It wasn't too long before a photo appeared in the chat, blurry at first before Ringo selected to enlarge it, which he did without hesitation.

This wasn't the first time Ringo had seen a photo like this, he remembered very well the photos George had posted a while back of him in the bath, but this didn't look like merely a rejected photo from that session, which allowed him to believe it was contemporary, just for him. George's face was barely in the picture, which was a little disappointing to Ringo but he could hardly complain when his own profile picture was the default one. The bath water was a soft pink colour, no doubt from one of those luxurious bath bombs that Ringo loved the smell of but never bought for himself. One of George's slim legs was lifted up out of the water, gleaming and wet, while his bare chest was fully exposed. Only the bottom of his sharp jawline could be seen, but there was no doubt that this was George, Ringo knew his face well enough by now. It was nothing too explicit, his genitalia completely hidden under the water, but that wasn't really what Ringo was interested in; just to see his beautiful body was more than enough.

Ringo wasn't quite sure what to say in response, if this had been one of his boyfriends it would've been a different story, but unfortunately that wasn't the case. He didn't want to jump into anything too extreme too quickly, scaring George off now would've wounded Ringo deeply.

 **wow**  
**beautiful**

Simple yet effective, Ringo told himself. He wanted to avoid saying too much, which was almost always his problem.

_your turn_

Shit. Ringo threw the covers off himself immediately then lay there frozen. If only he'd had some old photos saved, but he had gotten sick of John rifling through his phone with zero warning then giving critiques on his nudes, which was uncomfortable for a variety of reasons. Ringo had never thought he'd been that good at taking them, especially when compared to the standard of George's photos, they were practically art compared to his own. The last thing he wanted was to look like those sleazy, crude photos that John would always receive on Grindr with no context. There was only a short window to do this, if he took too long George would no doubt lose interest, so he quickly rolled over and stretched over to turn the lamp on his bedside table on to provide at least a little bit of lighting. He couldn't show his face, that was a given, which means he'd have to take things to the next level. He was already half-hard, he had George's pictures to thank for that, and it didn't take more than a few pumps to get him the rest of the way there, especially with the thought that he was doing this for George.

It wasn't the most flattering picture he'd ever taken, one hand pulling down the waistband of his boxers and the other awkwardly angling the phone to take the photo, but it wasn't the worst either. As he sent it, he could feel his heart thumping in his chest and he wasn't sure whether it was from all the erratic movement or something a little deeper.

_youre hot  
wanna suck your dick  
_

Well that was certainly one way to escalate things. Ringo let out a quiet gasp when he read the message, here he was being so nervous about overstepping any boundaries when George entirely throws them out the window. 

__ **oh yeah?**

 **** _yeah  
you wanna fuck me?  
_

Ringo had no trouble maintaining an erection from this point onward. As much as he knew this wasn't anything more than meaningless dirty talk, that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy it. Whether George was doing this for money or just to get off, Ringo didn't really care; he slid his hand under the fabric of his boxers and began stroking himself.

 __ **god yes**

_how would you fuck me?  
i like it rough  
_

**i bet you do  
would love to spank that arse while i fuck you  
**

_mmm yes please  
bet your big cock would feel so good in my ass  
are you touching yourself?  
_

**yes**

_good_

It wasn't the easiest thing to do: wanking and trying to type with one hand, but Ringo was somehow managing it.

 __ **youre so gorgeous**

_speak for yourself  
have you ever seen me dance?  
_

__ **yes**

Ringo wasn't sure why he told the truth, his mind was considerably muddy by this point.

_and what did you think?_

__ **so so hot  
its so hard not to touch you when you look that good  
**

_touch me then  
i want you to  
_

**wish i could  
wish i could have you all to myself**

_what would you do to me?_ **  
**

That was the real question. What _would_ Ringo do? What he _wanted_ to do was easy, but if George had walked into his bedroom at that very second the only thing he'd really be capable of doing was probably fainting.

 __ **anything and everything  
i want you so badly  
id do anything to have you right now  
**

_why me?_

**do you really have to ask?**  
 **youre absolutely stunning  
 **you can turn me on just by looking at me****

_lucky me  
id like to do a little more than just look at you  
_

**like what**

**** _suck your cock  
its so big i dont know if i could take it all  
but id try **  
**_

 **god** **  
****id love to see that** _**  
**_

_then id ride you_ _  
nice and slow  
_ _let you watch your cock slide in and out of me_

Ringo could already feel his orgasm building, he felt a little embarrassed that it had been so easy. He tried to slow his movements but it only made things worse, he couldn't help imaging the tightness of his hand being replaced by George. He wondered if George was touching himself too, if he was enjoying this at all; it was best not to think about it.

 **then** **id flip you over and really fuck you  
grabbing your arse while i pound you  
is that what you want?  
**

_f_ _uck yes  
want you choke me  
make me pass out on your cock  
_

This was bordering on unknown territory now; Ringo wasn't exactly _vanilla_ in bed but he definitely wouldn't describe himself as adventurous, kinky even. But the thought of his hand wrapping around George's slender throat, his rings pressing against the skin, made his hand stutter.

**youre dirty arent you?**

_only if you want me to be  
ill let you do anything you want  
_

**i bet you would**

_you can tie me up_ _  
gag me if you want  
_ _as long as i get your cock_ **_  
_**

Ringo had no idea what he should expect when he'd sent the first message, but it was certainly wasn't this. It should've been no surprise that George could make him come undone with just his words, and a _very_ enticing photo. He wished they could've kept speaking for hours, but with every message that became more and more unlikely.

 **** **shit  
im getting close  
**

_so soon?  
i want to cum with you  
_

__ **i want to cum inside you**

 _i prefer it on my face_ _  
__id look so pretty with your cum all over me_ **_  
_**

**i bet you would**

_or i could swallow it_ _  
wrap my mouth around your fat cock  
taste your hot cum  
_ _i wouldnt waste a drop_ **_  
_**

He cursed himself for getting so close so quickly, especially when things were getting so heated now. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't stop the images conjuring in his mind: George's sharp face covered with his orgasm, that charismatic grin spreading over his face as he licked as much as he could manage. Some of it falling into his dark hair, over his long eyelashes. It would be an entire new level of beauty, and Ringo _needed_ to see it. He'd begun moaning aloud while he jerked himself, his wrist had begun to ache from holding up the heavy phone for so long.

 **** **im so close**

_me too_

Whether George was actually touching himself or not, Ringo didn't care. He'd let himself believe that George was lying in the bath, or on his bed in nothing but a loose towel, with his hand wrapped around himself while he thought of Ringo. Even if he didn't know it was him, if all he'd seen was below the neckline, he didn't care; it was all he needed.

 **** **fuck i wish you were here**  
 **want to fuck you until i explode  
wanna watch my cum dripping out of you**

 _god yes_ _  
please fill me up with your cum  
i want it  
_ _i need your cum_ **_  
_**

__ **im almost there  
fuck  
**

 **** _mmm good  
give me that cum_  
 _please please_  
 _cum for me  
_

That was enough for Ringo; he could hear the words in his mind as if George was really saying them to him. It was the most intense orgasm he'd had for a while, and he'd been having _a lot_ of them. He dropped the phone in his exhaustion, falling down onto the bed while he breathed raggedly. Sweat was forming on his forehead, making his hair stick in places. Several seconds passed before he finally picked the phone up again, the clarity was beginning to form which made him question what he'd just done but it was too late to go back now.

 __ **that was amazing**

_it sure was_  
 _goodnight_

Ringo tried not to be hurt by the bluntness of the end, but he supposed George too was having that moment of mental purity which made you want to discard whatever you'd been so obsessed with right up until the moment you finish. He stared at the words for a few moments, exhaustion beginning to take over paired with the realisation that he needed to get up and sort himself out. He would've let the phone drop back onto the bed and got himself suitable for sleep, he _would've_ if that next message hadn't sent. It was only one word, and Ringo had been certain he'd read it wrong or that his eyes were playing some sort of strange trick on him. After realising what he was seeing was in fact real, he couldn't put the phone down but that was about the limit of what he could do; should he send another message? Surely not. Should he delete his account then flee the country? Maybe that a was a little dramatic. In the end he did nothing, just glared at the word as if it would somehow vanish or send him back in time so that he could've never message George in the first place.

A single word, that's all it took to send Ringo into this internal frenzy, his eyes bulging wide and his heart racing. Not just a mere word, a name; his name.

_ringo_

Shit. How did he know? Had Ringo been that obvious? The whole reason he'd been comfortable sending any of those messages was because he thought he was safe behind his blank and anonymous profile.

But maybe this wasn't such a bad thing after all. If George knew it was him, whether from the start or not, he'd still stayed messaging him throughout the entire thing. He'd called him hot, he'd told him to touch him. Had all that been genuine? This wasn't meant to over-complicate things, it was meant to be a one-off moment of weakness on Ringo's behalf that went no further than desperate dirty talk and a well needed orgasm. _Shit_.

Maybe it was all a joke. Maybe George knew that Ringo was trying to be sneaky, so decided to mess him about. It wouldn't have been a complete surprise considering how much he seemed to enjoy teasing him at the club. The real issue was that Ringo simply didn't understand George, every time he thought he'd got him pinned down his intentions would seem to flip entirely. Or maybe that was just Ringo's anxiety getting the better of him; after all he had been single for a very long time, perhaps he was beginning to see exactly why that was.

Ringo felt like he couldn't show his face at the club again, not after exposing himself - rather literally - to George like that; since George had been so agonisingly torturous before, he could only imagine how he'd act now he knew that Ringo truly wanted to sleep with him. Most likely Ringo wouldn't be able to survive it, not for a second. 

All he could for now though, was sleep. He tried to focus his brain on anything but George, but the more he tried to avoid it the stronger the urges became. Fighting the idea that his brain was trying to form: that George truly liked him back, all this teasing and mystery was his way of showing it. It just couldn't be true, it was actually too good to be true. Ringo couldn't get a guy like George, it didn't take a genius to see that. It was a ridiculous notion, he was only telling himself what he wanted to believe. This whole thing was ridiculous, falling for a stripper, and this embarrassing episode was a clear sign that he had to stop making himself suffer like this. It was _never_ going to happen. 

He couldn't go back now, not after this, not ever. He was _done_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for reading! its 3am and im exhausted but i had to finish this before my sister came home or else itd take forever to get uploaded
> 
> im not quite sure if this chapter works entirely ive never really seen smutty texting in a fic before so i hope it's not awful i just thought it made sense 
> 
> i dont think ive got many chapters left to write for this one (its not gonna be as long as my mafia one im afraid) so i might get it done before the end of the month!
> 
> hope youre all having a fabulous day/afternoon/evening/night ❤️ i love you all!


	12. Distance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ringo tries to keep away from George.

The following morning, Ringo made the snap decision of deleting the app and cancelling his subscription. He was surprised at how easily he was able to do it, staring at the blank space of where the app used to be. Whether it looked strange or not he didn't truly care, at least that's what he told himself, because whatever George thought of him didn't matter. It _never_ mattered, even right from the beginning. The conversation last night, if it could even be called that, just proved to him that George just wanted to mess around with him because he knew that he could; and he _really_ could, even Ringo didn't know how much he'd be willing to put up with just for George's enjoyment. But he wasn't going to do that anymore, he wanted to believe that it was a matter of pride, that he didn't want someone to know that they had that much of a hold on him, but he knew that wasn't the case.

The true reason he had to distance himself now, before things got much further, was because it would just hurt too much. He couldn't sit around hoping that George liked him, reading between the lines of everything he did or said and trying to piece together what it all meant. He couldn't really _afford_ it either.

Of course George didn't like him. How could he? After how pathetic Ringo had been: almost losing his mind just because George touched him, trying to hide behind a fake profile and failing miserably. This wasn't like him, he'd _never_ acted like this about a guy before, and that had to be a bad sign.

As he got ready for the day he swore to himself he would never set foot in that club again, no matter how much John might beg. It was just too degrading, and far too painful. Behind all this shame and anger was the stinging realisation that he truly liked George, someone he would never be able to have. Even if George didn't have his rule, there was no way he could be truly interested. Ringo was nothing but a game, easy prey to be played with. Part of him wanted to just give in, to allow himself to suffer as long as it meant he could look at George, to merely be in his presence. But it would kill him, because soon enough George would get tired of him and he'd be left right back where he started: utterly alone.

Luckily Ringo had work to distract him, the activity days he'd been participating in had resulted in a few more students and even though Ringo knew most of them weren't going to last, it would at least get his mind off things. Ringo had been particularly taken with a young boy who had expressed big dreams of becoming a famous drummer; he reminded Ringo very much of his younger self in many ways. It was a little bittersweet, to see a child so happy, remembering how happy he'd been at that same age then to compare it to all the issues he was battling all these years later. Maybe it wasn't the best distraction after all, but it was a sure sight better than being stuck at home on his own.

He'd seen John a few times but he was being strangely reclusive, which usually happened when he was going through a 'creative period' so Ringo was careful not to pester him too much. Even if he was able to get John's undivided attention, he wasn't sure he'd completely want it. After all John had the ability to read Ringo better than anyone, and he'd no doubt realise something was up before Ringo even opened his mouth. He didn't want to tell John about everything that had happened, not yet, but there was no chance he'd be able to look John in the eye and tell him that everything was alright.

Ringo ended up having the entire week booked with lessons, which was pretty uncommon for him, but with the summer holidays beginning a lot of children or younger students felt like picking up a new hobby to fill their spare time. In an hour one of his new students would be arriving at his place for their first lesson; occasionally a student wouldn't have a drum kit of their own, so Ringo offered his own up for the first few lessons to allow his students to get a feel for whether they really wanted to commit to drumming or not. After all, Ringo was one of the more affordable drum teachers in the area, and kits could be ridiculously expensive so he was very sympathetic to people who might not be able to afford their own.

He'd tidied up the place in the morning, throwing away all takeaway containers and rushing about with the hoover. First impressions were important, and he couldn't imagine this student being very likely to return for a second lesson if the makeshift classroom was an absolute pigsty. It was a hot day but he still tried to dress professionally, wearing a burgundy shirt with the sleeves rolled up and loose black jeans.

The doorbell rang out through the flat and Ringo hurried over to the door, taking a deep breath and putting on the warmest smile he could manage before opening it. The smile died almost immediately, his heart sinking in his chest. 

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Ringo blurted out without thinking, louder than he'd intended.

"Is that how you talk to all of your students?" George grinned, he was leaning on the doorframe like a jock in a teen movie.

Of _course_ it was George. Why wouldn't it be? As if traumatising him several nights ago wasn't enough, he just had to turn up at his house too. Ringo supposed he must've been someone truly rotten in a past life if God was going to treat him like this. What part of 'I don't want to see George again' didn't he understand? Maybe he should start wishing he'd never see a winning lottery ticket, or a brand new car.

Ringo didn't say anything, just stood there gripping the door. Could he slam it in his face? Because that's what he felt like doing. It wasn't anger at George, not really, after all he hadn't necessarily done anything _wrong_. It was just rage at the entire situation, that seeing George had smacked him in the face with the realisation that he couldn't just ignore these feelings in hopes that they'd vanish.

"I just figured I'd switch things around a bit. You're always visiting me at work, so why don't I come and see you?" George cocked his eyebrow.

"But this is my house." Ringo responded dumbfounded.

"Well if you had an office or a studio that's where I'd be, but since you don't..." George let the rest of the sentence hang in the air, he looked at Ringo expectantly as though he wanted to be invited in.

Ringo was almost certain he hadn't blinked since he'd opened the door, he'd just been staring at George as though he'd vanish if he looked long enough. He was wearing sunglasses which were resting on the end of his nose, allowing Ringo to see into his glittering eyes; they were small and rectangular, Ringo thought they would've looked ridiculous on anyone else. He was wearing the fur coat he'd worn on the night they'd gotten a drink, a night Ringo had fruitlessly attempted to forget.

This was the real decision: was he going to let him in? He had paid for a lesson, but Ringo had a sneaking suspicion that George had an alterior motive for being here. Allowing him into his house would really be admitting defeat, accepting that he couldn't fight these feelings. Was George really here just to mess him around? It seemed a little extreme, even by George's standards.

It had been very easy for Ringo to tell himself that he was going to get over George - why he needed to get over someone he'd never actually dated was a problem for a different time - but being confronted with the sight of him now made it abundant that it'd been a lie. Just seeing George made him happy, made his stomach flutter and his heart stutter, and that was never going away.

"Come in, I guess." Ringo tried to maintain his cool as he stepped aside and George sauntered past him.

George scoped around the living room, Ringo wasn't quite sure what he'd been looking for. Seeing him here was very strange, something he'd only seen in his late night fantasies. 

"Nice place." George said simply, moving around the small space.

"Thanks." Ringo took a few steps into the room "How did you find me?" 

"Believe it or not there's not many drum teachers called Ringo around here." George moved over to inspect the drum kit. 

"Are you seriously here to drum? I don't want to seem rude but-" Ringo was getting a little exasperated. 

"Is that so hard to believe?" George grinned once again and Ringo felt weak in the knees "Maybe I just wanted to see you. Could be either one." 

"George, please... Don't." Ringo sighed, he couldn't look at him. 

"Don't what?" George took a step towards him "I can leave if you like." He paused "Is that what you want?" 

"I-I don't know." Ringo stammered, he felt his face hearing up "Why are you doing this?" 

"Doing _what_? I just thought it'd be fun to come and see you." George paused again, for a moment he dropped his typical demeanour "I thought I'd scared you off." 

"What do you mean?" Ringo found the strength to look at him, the grin was gone and he almost looked scared. 

"Nevermind, this was a bad idea. I should just go." George shook his head and began making his way to the door. 

Ringo moved instinctively, grabbing George's wrist as he tried to push past. It wasn't a tight grip, far from it, but it was enough to make George stop in his tracks. This was the first time Ringo had touched him like this, intentionally and without any encouragement, and it felt a little strange. He could feel the heat and softness of his skin, pulling that soft hiss from George that came with the sudden coldness of his rings. 

"Don't... Don't leave." Ringo spoke in a quiet voice.

"Okay." George responded in kind, almost shakily.

Ringo gingerly let go off his wrist, George slowly turned around so that they were facing one another. The hallway was small, there was only a little distance between them, yet none of them moved. The silence was thick, clouding Ringo's mind as he looked up at George who returned the gaze intensely.

"How did you know it was me?" Ringo was desperate to break the silence, he couldn't bear George looking at him like that any longer, but he didn't dare say what he really wanted to. 

George laughed, it was quiet and a little husky "You really wanna know?"

"Yes." Ringo let out a small chuckle.

"Well I had my suspicions as soon as you asked me how I was." George explained with a smile "Most people who message me don't bother with the formalities."

"Oh, I see." Ringo felt a little embarrassed "What else?"

George let out a sigh, breaking their eye contact and placing his hands on his hips, a little frustrated "Ringo, you know when we're at the strip club, it's not just _you_ checking _me_ out. You do realise that, don't you?" George began "I know you're probably too freaked out to notice, but _I'm_ looking at _you_ too."

"But... You never saw me naked." Ringo tried to look back on their conversation in his head, desperate to make sense of it all.

"In real life, sure." George turned his face to look at Ringo directly again, his eyes were serious but his lips were curled playfully "I noticed things about you, Ringo. Small things."

George took a large step forward, closing the space between them completely. Ringo let out a quiet gasp, pressing himself against the wall in an attempt to get away, but there was nowhere to go. George lifted his finger to push gently at Ringo's shirt collar, tracing over his neck and top of his chest lightly.

"When I'm this close, I can see the shape of your collar bones, how smooth your chest is." George pressed his other hand flat against Ringo's thigh "I'll notice the shape of your legs, your hips, your waist. Do you understand?"

Ringo nodded, he knew if he opened his mouth all he'd be able to let out would be a pathetic gasp or moan. George was proving his point a little too well, Ringo felt even more panicked than he did whenever George would be this close to him at the club. But wasn't this what he'd wanted all this time? The two of them finally alone, far away from that place.

"If that answers your question, I've got one of my own." George only needed to whisper for Ringo to hear him, his breath was hot against Ringo's cheek "All those things you said, did you mean them?"

Ringo gulped, this was all too much. George's finger tracing along the outline of his collarbone, his thumb rubbing the inside of his thigh. The hands were bad enough but even worse was George's stare, his dark eyes saying so much and yet still unreadable. Ringo had never been this close to his face for so long, it was usually his arse or crotch or something equally as explicit, and he felt like he was truly seeing him now. Why did he have to be so gorgeous? Ringo doubted he'd put up with this much stress for anyone else, in fact he _knew_ he wouldn't.

"Yes." Ringo breathed out, he felt his body tencing in anticipation - he expected George to pull away, that wolfish grin on his face, only to leave without a further word.

"Really?" George's voice faltered a little and Ringo looked at him worriedly "You think I'm beautiful?"

It wasn't the direction Ringo had been expecting, he let out an exasperated laugh in shock "Seriously? You're _seriously_ asking me that?"

"What?" George moved his head away sightly but his hands remained in place "It's not something you hear a lot in my line of work." His attitude was quickly returning, but Ringo couldn't forget that slipping of the mask.

"You're _beautiful_ , George." Ringo admitted, he moved his own hand from where it'd been glued to his side and lifted it to brush against the softness of George's face, he flinched very briefly "I thought that the moment I saw you."

George laughed, his eyes darting away quickly, it was something Ringo had seen a million times with John whenever he tried to genuinely compliment him about something John was insecure about - which was most things.

"You're not making this easy for me, are you?" George asked with a little sadness in his voice.

" _Me_!?" Ringo exclaimed with a hearty chuckle, letting his hand fall from George's face "Do you know the amount of agony you've put me through?"

George began to laugh too "Couldn't help myself."

They stayed stood like that for a while, both laughing with almost no space between them. George still hadn't moved his hands and Ringo was very grateful for it, he'd gotten so used the the feeling. 

"So I take it you don't _actually_ want to learn to drum?" Ringo asked, he felt surprisingly calm.

"Well that's not _strictly_ true." George began but broke his sentence off with a laugh when he saw Ringo raising his eyebrow "Fine, fine... I just wanted to see you. Happy now?"

"As long as you're still gonna pay me." Ringo responded with a smile.

"Oh, is that how it is?" George began rubbing his thumb over Ringo's clothed thigh again.

"I don't see you dancing for free." Ringo retorted.

"In your dreams." George let his sharp teeth poke through as his grin widened.

"And what about your dreams?" Ringo asked almost in a whisper.

"I think you know what I want." George moved his face even closer, breathing against the exposed skin of Ringo's neck.

"What about your rule?" Ringo felt himself warming up a little.

"You're not my customer. You're my teacher." George chuckled, his mouth mere inches away from Ringo and he had to stop himself from holding his breath.

"What if I don't sleep with my students?" Ringo asked, his voice was higher pitched than usual.

"Then I'll just have to convince you to change your mind." George punctuated his sentence by finally closing that small space, pressing his wet lips against Ringo's neck and kissing it roughly.

Ringo felt like he was in a dream, in fact this _was_ one of his dreams, but it was really happening. George moved his hand up to Ringo's waist and scraped his teeth lightly against the sensitive skin on his neck. He pressed two more kisses as he gradually moved upwards, then removed his mouth entirely and brought his head to rest against Ringo's. He'd seen George's glare countless times before, but never quite like this, knowing it was purely for him and him alone.

"You said you'd do anything to have me. Well, here I am." George practically purred the words and Ringo didn't waste another second, locking their lips together so roughly that it knocked George backwards until he was pushed up against the opposite wall.

George didn't respond at first, no doubt in shock, but as soon as he registered what was happening he was reciprocating Ringo's vigour with ease. Ringo cupped his face desperately, soaking in the joy of finally being able to hold him like this. George's hand cupped Ringo's hip, the other lightly grabbing his arse. George tasted like tea and smoke, completely ordinary things, yet it was almost transformed into ambrosia for Ringo, he couldn't get enough. 

This was really happening. Maybe God had been kinder than Ringo had first anticipated, he only prayed this wouldn't be snatched away from him just as he got used to it. If that was going to be the case, Ringo was going to make sure he used every single second to his advantage, he was going to fight for it. He wanted this, he _needed_ it. He was even beginning to believe that he deserved it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me after 12 chapters and 40k words: hmm is this too soon??
> 
> thanks so much for reading! i really hadnt expected to be writing another chapter tonight yet here i am at 3am as always
> 
> i hope you guys enjoyed! next chapter is gonna get a lil steamy 👀 ill try to upload it soon so its not too long of a painful wait
> 
> i think i might actually be able to finish this fic before i move in the next few days ill have to post a chapter like every single day but i really really wanna get it finished before then or else i risk leaving weeks until the next chapter (i say as though i dont have unfinished fics from years ago) 
> 
> not that i should be dishing out life advice with a fucked sleeping pattern, no job, a caffeine addiction and an ongoing identity crisis BUT make sure you guys are taking care of yourself! people might be forgetting about corona but its still out there lurking so be sure to keep yourself and everyone else safe ❤️ health and happiness are the two most important things in life so treasure them


	13. Contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George and Ringo finally spend some time alone together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me at 2am: this is the PERFECT time to start writing a new chapter

The first surface they fell onto was the sofa, Ringo had somehow managed to guide the both of them over without either of them tripping over anything. Ringo's hands were roaming all over George's body, running up and down his back or gripping at his shoulder while George settled his own in Ringo's now very messy hair. It felt liberating to finally be able to touch him like this, with no barriers and no audience.

Had George come over here knowing Ringo was going to fuck him? He couldn't quite make his mind up, because that's certainly what _was_ going to happen but did George know? Without a doubt he knew the effect he had on Ringo, but it was only now that Ringo was starting to consider the effect he might've been having on George all this time. This wasn't just the one-sided thing that he'd always thought it to be, and that was _very_ evident from the way George desperately pressed his lips against Ringo's. It all felt completely surreal, like he was going to wake up in a few minutes to find it'd been a dream all along.

At some point tongues had got involved, Ringo wasn't exactly sure when. He could really _taste_ George now, not perhaps as much as he was planning to, and it made him hungry for more. They barely gave one another time to breathe, never pulling away for too long.

It was already fairly warm in the flat before any of this had started, but now the heat was becoming unbearable and both of them were wriggling against the uncomfortable material of the sofa. Ringo had George on his lap, not a particularly new experience by any means, his hands resting on George's slender hips which hovered over his own. Their breaths rapidly turned into quiet moans; Ringo couldn't remember a time he got this aroused just from kissing since he was a teenager.

Ringo experimentally pushed his hand under George's shirt, he wasn't quite sure when his coat had been discarded but it evidently had been, brushing his thumb against the flatness of George's stomach. It was apparently all the encouragement George had needed, he broke the kiss hastily to pull his top off over his head to reveal the nakedness beneath.

"You gonna charge me for this?" Ringo asked with a satisfied smile.

"I'll put it on your tab." George punctuated his sentence with another kiss, deeper this time with his tongue pressing into Ringo's mouth immediately.

He'd seen George shirtless countless times but now he could finally _touch_ him, allowing his fingers to trace over the lines of bone and muscle across his chest and back. George would inhale sharply whenever Ringo's cold rings rubbed against his skin, but would then moan right afterwards. George then began to unbutton Ringo's shirt, his deft fingers making quick work of it without even needing to break the kiss.

Ringo moved one of his hands to the small of George's back and the other up to his neck, then he rolled them over so that George was lying flat across the sofa and Ringo towered above him. It caused a glimmer in George's eyes which encouraged him to continue, which Ringo certainly intended to do. He captured George's mouth in another kiss, only lips with no tongue, as he began removing George's trousers as smoothly as he could. The angle was a little awkward and it led George to let out a muffled chuckle against Ringo's mouth.

"Don't waste any time, do you?" George asked sarcastically, he was leaning up on his elbows.

"Are you gonna make smart comments the whole time?" Ringo retorted with a playfully stern look.

"Guess you'll just have to shut me up." George purred, raising his chin up a little.

Ringo wasn't to waste taking George up on that offer, he lifted him up from the sofa with ease and began carrying them over to his bedroom. George let out a surprised yelp when he got picked up so easily, but it quickly transformed into an excited giggle as he laced his hands together around Ringo's neck. Ringo had to back up against his bedroom door to swing it open, it wasn't the most graceful chain of events but he managed to get George over to his bed without dropping him. He could've gently lowered George down onto the bed, but where was the fun in that? Ringo almost threw him onto the mattress, making him bounce slightly as he landed, then pounced on top of him seconds later.

"Aren't you a big, strong man?" George grinned at him, running a single finger down the muscles on Ringo's arm.

"I bet you say that to all your drum teachers." Ringo smiled back at him, he would've been happy just to look at George all day.

"Time to teach me a lesson." George winked cheesily, raising his hips up slightly from the bed, and Ringo let out a playful groan.

Ringo returned to the task at hand, pulling George's trousers down and discarding them to merge with the rest of the room's mess - Ringo really wished he'd cleaned in here earlier today but if he had known George was going to show up at his door there's probably _a lot_ of things he would've done to prepare. Ringo didn't expect any more surprises today, but George was living up to his reputation of forever catching Ringo off guard as his choice of underwear was suddenly revealed: he wore a deep purple, lacy piece of fabric which Ringo could tell was a thong from the lack of fabric covering anything but his cock. He let out a mixture of a scoff and a gasp when he laid eyes on it, George merely lay there with a smug expression on his face.

"Those _can't_ be comfortable." Ringo commented, running his finger along the thin bands of fabric but never getting too close to his crotch.

"Better take them off then." George responded almost immediately, Ringo wondered whether he just had a repertoire of lusty remarks in his mind.

"Seems a waste to get rid of them so quickly." Ringo dipped his finger under the strap "You _clearly_ wore them for a reason."

"Suppose I'll have to keep them on then." George sighed, shifting his weight so that he could move his hands down to where Ringo's was still diddling with the material.

George ran his finger over Ringo's knuckles slowly, tracing the outside of each ring individually. It felt like the most personal touch they'd ever shared, and Ringo thought it was a little silly that his mind was focused on this small gesture rather than the fact he was currently playing with George's thong. The sexuality of it all didn't scare him at all, it excited him more than anything, but it was the _sensuality_ that was a little frightening. George had always been sexy, Ringo had realised that immediately, but for him to be gentle or even warm, that was new.

"Don't see a reason for you to be so overdressed, though." George's voice had gotten softer.

"Would you believe me if I told you I was wearing the exact same thing?" Ringo let out a weak laugh.

"They say seeing is believing." George raised an eyebrow and the same smirk began spreading across his lips.

Ringo shuffled up onto his knees so that he could begin unbuckling the belt of his jeans but before he could even get his hands on the buckle, George had caught his wrists.

"Allow me." George spoke in a gruff voice, his eyes were getting darker.

Ringo didn't think he'd ever submitted before so quickly in his life, allowing his hands to rest at his side as George set to work. It was like watching an artist whenever George used his fingers, all slender and itching to get a hold of something. This was a sight Ringo never thought he'd see, George stretched out below him while he eagerly undid his jeans, tongue darting out to wet his lips in preperation for what was to come. As soon as George quickly looked upwards through his dark eyelashes, Ringo knew he wasn't going to last very long, as much as he wanted to.

Throughout all this Ringo was already half-hard, it'd been painfully pressing against the hard denim of his trousers but it only made him more excited for when the relief would come. George's grin widened as he pulled Ringo's jeans down past his hips, he didn't even give Ringo a moment to shed them off entirely to get comfortable, his hand and mouth were immediately drawn to the outline of Ringo's cock in his boxers. Ringo was a little embarrassed at the low groan he let out at the sudden contact, but it only seemed to urge George on further. He ran his tongue over the head almost desperately, his fingers cupping Ringo's balls through the fabric. For a moment Ringo questioned whether George might've been filming porn on the side for extra cash, because the way he looked was utterly sinful.

"Fuck..." Ringo breathed out as he ran his fingers through George's wavy hair, pulling a hum from the taller man.

That seemed to be what George was waiting for, encouragement to go further, because like a bolt of electricity was shooting through him he moved again, pulling Ringo's boxers down a little awkwardly to where his jeans were pooled above his knees, freeing the now almost fully hard cock. George licked his lips again and Ringo couldn't tell whether it was a subconscious thing, or whether he just wanted to send Ringo even further into oblivion.

If this was some sort of twisted dream, he would've had to wake up now before anything too satisfying happened, but thankfully nothing vanished. George used his mouth before he used his hands, pressing his face up against Ringo's length as though he wanted to breathe in the smell of him before proceeding. It was strange to see George like this, almost worshipping Ringo in the way Ringo had been doing to him for so long, but it was definitely something he could get used to.

Ringo couldn't help thrusting into the warmth of George's mouth, even if it was just a little. The realisation that this was the first time he'd had sex in over a year definitely didn't escape him, it was almost impossible to ignore with the tightening in his stomach that was already beginning. He didn't want this to be so over so soon, but he also didn't know if he'd able to go for two rounds and it wasn't a risk he particularly wanted to take. George wasn't making it any easier on him, swirling his tongue as he bobbed his head down almost the entirety of his erection. It turned out that George hadn't been entirely truthful in their messages, because he seemed _entirely_ sure that he'd be able to take all of Ringo in his mouth and he demonstrated that with ease. The feeling of being completely swallowed was something Ringo had never experienced, no man he'd ever been with before had been able to manage it, and he was beyond thankful that George had been the first one to do it.

George began to gag on Ringo's cock fairly quickly, but that didn't deter him, he looked up at Ringo once more and raised his eyebrows as though this was completely natural to him, which Ringo was starting to believe it was. Ringo wasn't quite sure if this was what George had been expecting, but he'd curse himself if he didn't at least try, as he began pulling his hips backwards carefully then thrusting forwards just as gently. It seemed to be the right decision, because George let out a guttural moan that vibrated throughout Ringo's aching cock.

It didn't take long to build up a more brutal pace, each time Ringo sped up he worried that George would pull away spluttering and wrecked, but he never did. George took it with a ridiculous amount of ease, his eyes watering copiously and his mouth so filled with saliva and pre-cum that it was beginning to drip down onto the bed. There was no way he'd be able to keep this up for long, his thrusts had begun to stutter and his eyes kept closing unintentionally.

"Shit... I'm-I'm close, George." Ringo breathed, he made sure to make use of his name just because he loved to say it "I don't- Ah! I don't wanna cum just yet."

George managed somewhat of a whine, if his mouth wasn't currently so preoccupied Ringo was sure he would've pouted. As much as Ringo would've loved to cum down his throat at that very moment, there's no way he'd forgive himself if it cost him actually being able to fuck George. For a moment Ringo worried that George wasn't going to pull away, he began bobbing his head for a few seconds before moving off entirely. Now he allowed himself to cough, a long string of saliva elongated from his lip to Ringo's crotch, that sight alone was almost enough to finish Ringo. Even with such signs of stress on his face, George still managed to look beautiful, even if it was a more ragged and erotic kind of beauty.

Even more enticing than his face in that moment was the roughness of his voice "Don't faff about trying to prep me or anything, just fuck me."

Part of Ringo wanted to protest, as much as he didn't want to waste any more time he didn't want to hurt him in any way, but it was all part of the realisation that George _wanted_ Ringo to hurt him. Ringo had a reputation for being quite caring in bed, so to ignore his instincts in that moment was very difficult indeed but he felt it would've been impossible to argue with the firmness of George's demand. Ringo managed to regain enough composure to get himself fully undressed, throwing his jeans and boxers carelessly into a corner of the room.

George lay there watching Ringo intensely, he'd never seen his eyes so dark before. Ringo began to move himself between George's thighs but just as before, he was stopped. George placed his foot against Ringo's chest - when had they taken their shoes off? Ringo couldn't remember - and gently pushed him down onto his back which Ringo allowed without any fuss.

"I meant what I said too." George began as he lifted himself onto his knees so that he was hovering over Ringo's crotch "I wanna ride you, feel that big cock sliding in and out of my ass."

Ringo's head fell backwards onto the sheets, reading those words had been arousing enough but to hear them actually coming from George's lips was diabolical. George wasted no time in proving his dedication to his word, sliding the piece of fabric between his two cheeks to the side so that he could line Ringo's cock up with his entrance. Was he really going to do this dry and unstretched? Ringo couldn't imagine anything more painful, but that seemed more like motivation to George than any kind of deterrent. Unsurprisingly George was immensely tight, Ringo panicked for a moment as he felt there was no way it was going in, but eventually the head slid past the ring of muscle and both of them let out a loud moan.

"George..." Was all Ringo could manage to say, he gripped his hip lightly and rubbed over the bone soothingly.

Whatever Ringo's mind had been able to conjure up whenever he'd fantasise about this exact moment was _nothing_ compared to the reality: George was tighter than he ever could've imagined, with every inch he pressed inside himself came more desperate moans from the two of them. George's eyes began watering again, Ringo felt like stopping the whole thing entirely because he looked so in pain but his hooded eyes and languish moans prevented him from doing so.

When George finally bottomed out, Ringo already felt exhausted and he'd barely done a thing. George's cock was leaking eagerly, spilling out onto Ringo's stomach. Ringo was sure to fight the urge to thrust upwards, he had to be stronger than he'd been before because he risked seriously hurting George now. 

"If I'd have known you were this big, I would've fucked you sooner." George was still catching his breath, hair was beginning to stick to his forehead with sweat.

Ringo could hardly think of anything to say in response, and he didn't think George was even looking for one because he immediately began lifting himself upwards again. It didn't take him long at all to adjust to Ringo's size, soon enough he was riding it like it wasn't a problem. Ringo wasn't sure what he wanted to focus on more, the way his cock disappeared into George over and over again with such a fast rhythm, or how George looked as he slowly but surely unravelled. His eyes were closed and his mouth hanging open, rough moans pouring from his parted lips. Ringo wanted to tell him how beautiful he looked, how he'd cherish the image of this forever, but he could hardly even keep his head up.

How George was able to do all this while still confined in that tiny thong was a mystery to Ringo, but he wasn't about to allow it to get in the way of George getting any relief. Ringo didn't want to announce how close he was just yet, instead he focused on getting George close too; he pulled down the fabric sloppily, revealing George's aching erection which was desperate for any contact at all. Ringo wrapped his hand around George's cock, forcing a low groan from him as the cold metal contrasted the heat of his skin. Ringo managed to time his hand with George's riding, both of them were getting a little rough by this point.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum soon." George moaned, and Ringo was relieved that he hadn't been the first to say it.

"Me too." Ringo managed to breath out.

George's eyes had been closed almost the entire time, Ringo didn't think it was entirely intentional but as soon as they locked eyes again he felt liked he'd been cheated out of something, if George had been looking at him like this from the moment he'd started riding him Ringo didn't think he'd last much longer than a minute. Ringo made sure to keep the eye contact as he began to thrust up his hips shallowly, he could tell George's legs were getting tired by this point. George's moans evolved into gasps and even into quiet, repetitive curses. Ringo didn't feel capable of making much noise at all, he was mostly just breathing heavily.

Ringo felt George begin to tighten around him, how he was able to get even tighter Ringo didn't know, and it was a clear sign that he was nearing the edge. Ringo tightened his grip on George's hip and began thrusting more aggressively while speeding up the movements of his hand. The closer George got, the tighter he became, and so the closer Ringo got too. George let out a series of almost shrieks, his eyes widening then fluttering shut as he called out to warn Ringo. The feeling of George clamping around his cock like that, spilling cum out onto his bare stomach, was more than enough to set Ringo's orgasm off.

Ringo knew he'd never forget the sight of George like that, his face in pure bliss, and he couldn't help but feel sad when George lifted himself off and rolled down to lay beside him. Both of them were panting intensely, Ringo felt just as he did when he'd lost his virginity, only that hadn't been so extreme. George began to smile as he watched Ringo coming to terms with what had just happened, he'd been so busy giving into the moment that he hadn't really considered what the moment _was_. What did this mean? Did it mean anything at all? George no doubt didn't like the look of worry that was beginning to spread against Ringo's face, so he spoke to break the relative silence.

"Please tell me you have a working shower." His voice was still wrecked.

"I'm not sure if that's a judgement on me or the people you've previously slept with." Ringo chuckled.

"I'll let you know which when you give me an answer." George began to sit up.

" _Yes_ , I have a working shower. I also have a microwave and WiFi, would you like to see the brochure?" Ringo teased, making George laugh.

"Are you always this jokey after sex?" George slowly slid off the bed, he was careful to not make too many sudden movements.

"Suppose you'll have to find out." Ringo answered, he couldn't really move at all with the pool of cum on his stomach.

"Suppose I might." George's voice trailed off as he headed into the bathroom.

In that moment Ringo wished more than ever that he could've detected when George was being serious or not. He really didn't want this to be a fluke, that'd be far more painful than it never happening at all. All he could do was wait and see, the waiting part he'd had sorted for a while now, but actually seeing any real developments was something he'd have to get used to, something he _very_ much planned on doing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me at 11am on 2 hours sleep: this is the PERFECT time to finish writing a new chapter
> 
> i hope you guys enjoyed! im evidently a little sleep deprived right now and this feels a little different than my usual smut so fingers crossed it was decent!
> 
> sometimes i forget i wanted to write this fic because i wanted it to be completely smutty but i got so caught up in the feelings aspect so its about time we had some ACTUAL smut
> 
> thanks again for reading as always ❤️ i shall be moving in 2 days but i think i might be able to finish the fic before then but it depends whether inspiration strikes and i find a new avenue to explore
> 
> i hope you guys are all super happy! try to make most of the unique situation we're in right now rather than seeing it as a burden ❤️ sending my love and good vibes as always
> 
> now if youll excuse me im going to bed


	14. Upshot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ringo reveals a little more to George.

Ringo shuffled a little awkwardly into the bathroom after George in search for some wipes, the last thing he wanted was to be stuck on the bed for half an hour with dried cum on his stomach. Even after all they'd just done, Ringo hadn't quite gotten used to the sight of George completely naked. Standing in the doorframe Ringo could see him more clearly now, rather than being pressed up closely to him. He was far skinnier than Ringo had first thought, it was a little worrying but he supposed it wasn't really his business. George didn't notice Ringo's presence straightaway, and he jumped a little when he saw him in the reflection of the mirror.

"Joining me, are you?" George asked with a smile.

"I'd love to, but think that might kill me." Ringo chuckled, making a show of picking up the wipes so it didn't look like he was just following George in here.

"I can think of worse ways to go." George pulled the shower curtain back and stepped inside.

George didn't pull the curtain back across immediately, he remained looking at Ringo a little expectantly. Ringo really did want to join him, but he knew it would've resulted in an embarrassing case of Ringo not being able to get hard again; it wasn't a problem Ringo usually had, but he was currently incredibly rusty. Instead he just gave a small smile and headed out of the room, closing the door behind him. He very quickly took care of himself and discarded the wipe in the bin. The muffled sound of water running came through the door, it'd been a long time since Ringo had heard that.

Now that he was properly alone the weight of the situation began sinking in: he'd really just fucked George. That definitely wasn't how he had expected this day to go, but he was incredibly thankful that it did. It was difficult for this to not feel like a victory, but Ringo had to stop himself from getting too carried away; just as John loved to remind him, it was just sex. It wasn't as though George had swept Ringo off his feet and dedicated himself to him, not that Ringo particularly wanted that. Whatever had pushed George beyond the flippant teasing at the club, Ringo wasn't sure but he knew he wasn't going to be able to suss it out just sitting there thinking, so it was just best not to worry too much about it.

Ringo darted around for some clean clothes, moving around all the dirty ones into a pile with his foot. George's clothes he picked up far more carefully, finding his socks in the living room, folded them and piled them on top of one another. He knocked on the bathroom door before entering, even though he was almost certain George wouldn't be able to hear it over the noise of the shower.

"I've got your clothes." Ringo announced loudly, he pulled down the toilet seat so that he could lay the clothes flat on top "If you want some clean boxers, I can lend you some."

" _Lend_? Will you be expecting them back?" George shouted.

"Are you expecting to keep them?" Ringo was already out of the door before George could respond.

Ringo headed into the kitchen and put the kettle on, it was a little too hot for a cup of tea but that wasn't about to stop him. George wasn't in the shower much longer, while Ringo was busying himself finding two clean mugs he appeared at the door fully clothed and drying his hair with one of Ringo's towels.

"Want a cuppa?" Ringo asked with a smile.

George slinked into the kitchen a little cautiously, taking a seat at the small table in the corner "Are you always this matronly?"

Ringo paused before pouring the water into the mugs "Yeah, I suppose I am."

"Half expected you to be gone." George mumbled as he took the cup of tea gladly.

Ringo scoffed "Who do you take me for?"

George shrugged his shoulders, sipping his drink without saying a word. Ringo thought he looked like a different person than the one who'd knocked at his door only an hour or so ago, his confidence seemed to have melted away. Ringo found himself staring, but he wasn't quite sure what else he could be looking at as they sat across from one another. He hadn't had another person in his kitchen other than John for a while, it was something he hadn't realised he'd missed until this moment. 

"So..." Ringo began after a few minutes of silence.

"So." George repeated.

"I don't wanna be too forward or anything, but... Was this a one time thing?" Ringo felt his heart quickening but he tried to ignore it "It's fine if it was, I just want to _know_."

George paused, sitting back in the seat but not moving his eyes off of Ringo "I can't see into the future." He said plainly.

"Right." Ringo sighed, he was gripping his mug "It's just... I like you George. A lot."

There was more silence, Ringo began to worry that George was going to leave but then he spoke "You don't know me."

"No, not really. But I want to." Ringo began to smile even though he was panicking inside "Like I said, if this was a one off that's _fine_. I just figured I should say something." His voice began to trail off into a whisper.

"Why?" George asked, he looked as tense as Ringo felt.

"Why what?" Ringo ensured his voice was gentle.

"Why me?" George's eyes were very serious, it almost pained Ringo to hear these words again that he'd assumed had been mere flirting before.

Ringo chuckled, desperate to ease the tension "I dunno. Why does anyone like anyone? You're very attractive, you seem like my type of person. I could go on." 

George was quiet for a while, but soon he spoke "It doesn't bother you, what I do?"

"Erm, well... It's a job at the end of the day, if it makes you happy and puts bread on the table who am I to complain?" Ringo answered hopefully.

"Believe or not, I've heard that before." George seemed to be closing himself off entirely, Ringo wasn't sure how to stop it.

"Well, why did you come here? Was it just for a quick fuck?" Ringo tried not to sound stern "If that was the case, why are you still here? Why go through all the trouble of finding out where I live?"

George let out a heavy breath and looked down at his feet "You'll end up hating me." He spoke so softly Ringo almost didn't hear.

"You don't know that." Ringo cautiously moved his hand across the table and placed it over George's lightly "You could end up hating _me_ , for all you know. You're not the only one with relationship troubles, you know."

George didn't flinch away from the touch, but he still didn't look up either "I should probably go." 

Ringo pulled his hand away rapidly "Oh. Well, if you're sure. Your appointment time's probably running over anyway." 

George let out a quiet chuckle, he finally lifted his head back up and he instantly seemed back to his normal self - Ringo was now beginning to question which side was the _real_ one. 

"Think this technically makes you a prostitute." George raised an eyebrow, smirking. 

"I've been called worse things." Ringo quipped " _Matronly_ being one of them." 

George let out a stifled laugh "I didn't mean it as an insult. It's just usually after I fuck a guy he either pretends to be asleep or throws me out into the hall."

"Seriously?" Ringo couldn't believe it, he knew there were some awful guys out there of course, but to hear George had been getting that treatment really shocked him. 

"Yeah... Do you always make guys tea after?" George ended his question with a sip of said tea. 

"Sometimes. It's just a nice thing to do, you know? I don't want anybody to think I'm just _using_ them for sex." Ringo explained, John had asked him similar questions many times. 

"Well aren't you a gentleman?" George asked, he was smiling. 

"You say that like it's a bad thing." Ringo shuffled in his chair. 

George looked at him for a few moments, even though he was smiling Ringo could see the panic hidden behind his eyes. Ringo thought _he_ was the one with problems, but it seemed like it wasn't just him. The image Ringo had in his head of George being this unshakeable beacon of confidence, able to wrap everyone around his finger at ease, was crumbling away piece by piece. He was beginning to remind Ringo of John, always putting on a brave face and keeping people at a distance whilst pretending everything was fine. Ringo began to feel a little selfish for only considering his own feelings in this whole thing, but he knew he was getting carried away. 

"I really should get going though, I'm not just trying to run away." George broke the silence "I'm working tonight so I need to get some sleep." He got up from his seat and finished the last drops of his tea. 

"Oh right." Ringo stood up too, a little hastily. 

"Will I see you there?" George asked, discarding the mug on the table. 

"Er- I wasn't planning on it, I've got work tomorrow." Ringo followed George as he headed towards the front door.

"Guess you don't need to anymore, now you've had the real thing." George sounded like he was only half joking.

"Don't be ridiculous." Ringo opened the door for him "I'd probably enjoy it even more now."

"Suppose we'll have to see." George had pulled on his shoes a little awkwardly as he tried to remain upright "See you around, Ringo."

"Goodbye." Ringo smiled as George slid past him into the hall, he didn't like how final the words felt.

George gave a quick smile then walked away, Ringo didn't wait to see whether he was going to look back because he didn't want to risk being disappointed. It seemed that whatever that was, had been short lived.

Had he scared George off with admiting that he liked him? Maybe. But he'd rather get it off his chest and potentially ruin everything than keeping it hidden and never knowing. Ringo hadn't expected for this to make things even more complicated, yet here he was feeling lost once again. One thing Ringo knew for sure though: he had to tell John.

**ive got huge news**

John didn't respond right away, it was still fairly early in the afternoon so he was probably still asleep. While he waited for a response Ringo sat finishing his tea, staring at the wall past where George had been sitting only moments ago. They hadn't exchanged numbers or anything, Ringo was right back where he started with no way of seeing George unless he went to the club, unless he wanted to sit around hoping for him to show up at his house.

_do tell_

**can i come over?**

_only if you bring food_

**you drive a hard bargain**

_and coffee_

**dont push your luck**

Ringo felt a little childish hurrying over to John's almost the second after George had left, but he knew being left alone with his thoughts was far too dangerous right now; he was certain to spiral into something massively negative.

John answered the door almost instantly, he looked like he'd only gotten up in the last hour or so. His kitchen was messy, it was one of the first signs he wasn't doing too well mentally, but Ringo tried to pretend he didn't notice. He dropped the bag of food on the table which John dug into immediately, Ringo wondered when he'd last ate.

"I've got news too." John mumbled as he took a bite of a donut.

"Is it that you've decided to clean your place? Cause that'd be _big_ news." Ringo chuckled, taking a seat and sipping the milkshake he'd bought for himself.

"Shut up." John covered his mouth a little "You go first though."

"Well..." Ringo took in a deep breath "I slept with George."

John almost spat out his food "What!? How the _fuck_ did that happen?"

Ringo couldn't help laughing at his response "It's a bit of an embarrassing story."

John looked at him expectantly "Which you're going to tell right now."

"Fine, fine." Ringo began "I messaged him on Onlyfans thinking I was being right sneaky, but he knew it was me. Then he showed up at my house."

"And you just fucked him? No 'hello' or anything? Remind me why you're single again." John took another bite of the donut.

"No, we talked for a little bit. It just sort of happened." Ringo explained "He left pretty soon after though, I've _no_ idea what all of this means."

"Did he say he liked you at any point?" John asked.

"Not really? But kind of. I _really_ don't know." Ringo sighed "He seems to have it in his head that nothing could happen because I'd try and get him to quit his job or something."

"And would you?"

"I dunno... I'd like to think I wouldn't, but who's to say? It's just- When we were together and I wasn't worrying about all this, it felt so _right_. You know?"

"I _do_ know. Did you tell him how you felt?"

"A little. He knows I like him, I didn't wanna go too far."

"Well, that's all you can do really. If he wants to give it a go, it's up to him now. Don't worry your pretty little head about it." John punctuated his sentence with a sip of coffee.

"I guess you're right." Ringo sighed "What was your news anyway?"

"I kinda don't wanna say now, it seems shit compared to yours." John pouted playfully.

"Shut up, tell me."

"Don't think those two sentences really work together." John raised an eyebrow then laughed "I finished my poem! But that's not the big part."

"Finishing _anything_ is pretty big news for you." Ringo interjected quickly.

"Shut _up_." John slapped his hand lightly "I'm gonna dedicate it to Paul. Is that absolutely insane? Please tell me it's not."

"Dedicating a poem in a collection of gay poetry to your favourite male stripper?" Ringo asked "I think that's totally normal behaviour. Regular Tuesday for me."

"Seriously, though. Is it?" John knitted his brows together.

"A little, but _you're_ a little insane John." Ringo answered with a sympathetic smile "I say go for it. I can't be the only one dating a stripper, that'd just be _weird_."

"You're right." John laughed quietly "I'm gonna show it to him tonight, will you come with me?"

Ringo paused for a few seconds "Of course I will."

"Who knows, maybe we'll both end the night considerably less single." John smiled.

"If you had told me a couple months ago that the two of us would be falling in love with strippers, I would've said-" Ringo started.

"Pass the spliff?" John interrupted with a chuckle.

"Precisely." Ringo laughed with him "Can I see the poem then?" 

"I thought you'd never ask." John jumped up from his seat excitedly, then hurried out of the room. 

While John was absent, Ringo couldn't help worrying about how tonight was going to go; did George even want him there? Maybe it was all just a test, George would see him and realise how serious Ringo had been and it'd just scare him off. Or maybe it wasn't. Or maybe... There was no point worrying, it hadn't helped him out at all so far. Whatever was going to happen didn't matter, he was going to be there regardless because John wanted him there, it was as simple as that.

John returned with a proud smile gripping his notebook tightly, Ringo always loved these moments, as rare as they were; whenever John was happy, he was happy too. 

"It's not _about_ Paul, that'd be a little too much. Plus I need this guy to actually _publish_ it." John prefaced "But I think he'd like it, I hope he does anyway." 

"Just show it to me already." Ringo made a grab for the notebook and John let it slip out of his hands. 

Ringo read the words carefully, he never thought he understood poetry too well and he often found himself having to read things over and over again just to grasp at the meaning. John's work was always different though, it was never overly complex or hard to understand, using fancy words or confusing imagery, it was always pretty down to earth paired with his signature wit and unique outlook on life.

This poem was no different, and it made Ringo smile when he got to the end. It was only short, but Ringo thought it was brilliant; he couldn't help thinking how it applied to his own situation, that he had to stop thinking so much and just go with the flow. John's work always had a way of speaking to him like this, and even though Ringo didn't know Paul very well at all he was certain that he'd love it, because it was pure John; and how could you not love John? 

> _Why make it sad to be gay?_   
>  _Doing your thing is O.K._   
>  _Our bodies our own_   
>  _So leave us alone_   
>  _Go play with yourself - today._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so glad i could finally include johns poem! when i found out hed written it i almost cried, i just think it's so simple and beautiful especially considering when it was written
> 
> thanks so much for reading! ive felt a little funny about the last few chapters so i hope theyre all making sense and im not rushing anything
> 
> im moving back to uni tomorrow so im sorry it might be a few days before the next chapter :( i only think theres one or two left to write so ill try to finish it ASAP!
> 
> wherever you are in the world i hope things are going well ❤️ the world is a scary place so its important to find a positive way to escape (mine is evidently writing beatles fanfiction) so try your best to stay happy!


	15. Timing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ringo and John head back to The Helter Skelter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry its been longer than usual since the last chapter! the days have been flying by since i moved back to uni but ive tried to use any spare moments writing this chapter
> 
> another sorry if this chapter is a little clunky because i usually write the majority of a chapter in one sitting not loads of little ones

Ringo stayed at John's for the remainder of the day, he ordered in dinner for the both of them and they sat in front of the television while they ate. Ringo did his usual routine of cleaning up small things around the house, like offering to do all the washing up because he'd already started cleaning up a plate or two, or taking the bins out because he wanted a bit of fresh air; Ringo imagined that John knew exactly what he was doing, he didn't try to be overly subtle about it any more, but he was a little too embarrassed to say thank you because it would be an acknowledgement that he needed help in the first place.

The day soon turned into night, Ringo always found that time flew whenever he was with John. Ringo had offered to drive the two of them over to the club, considering he'd driven all the way here in the first place, but John wanted to ensure they didn't leave too early. 

"Paul likes to have his breaks near the end of his shift, and I can't really interrupt him working so we'll have to wait for him to take a break." John explained with a mouth full of Chinese food.

"Are you gonna tell me exactly what's going on with Paul? Or are you just gonna keep me in suspense all night?" Ringo asked, he'd already essentially figured out what their dynamic was but he wanted to hear John's version of it.

"I'd tell you if I knew." John smiled, more to himself than anyone else "We just seem to gravitate towards each other, you know?"

Ringo made an affirming noise while he ate, part of him wishes he _didn't_ know. He'd never seen John so taken with someone before, usually he was moving around from person to person without much of a care. Ringo had figured John had just stopped telling him about his array of one night stands, but with Paul in the picture he realised there simply hadn't been any. All this obsession with getting Ringo out in the world to find somebody had clearly been a major deflection on John's part.

Even though Ringo was anxious to get to the club as soon as possible, as much as he'd been hesitant at first to agree with going he'd rather face whatever was waiting for him there, but this was ultimately John's night and hopefully his big moment, and Ringo could never sabotage that.

They left at around 2 in the morning, Ringo knew he'd regret staying up this late come tomorrow but it was too late to turn back now. He could feel John's excitement as he sat beside him in the car, it was refreshing to see a genuine smile on his face again. He'd scrawled down the poem on a page in his journal and ripped it out as neatly as he could, it was the most presentable Ringo had ever seen John's handwriting.

There was nobody loitering outside the club which was a sign it was fairly empty inside, this satisfied John as he knew he'd be able to get Paul alone but Ringo felt unnerved by the idea that he'd be far more visible to George. John led the way excitedly, the poem folded up inside his jacket pocket.

"Need a drink to settle my nerves." John announced as he headed to the empty bar, Ringo just followed behind him silently.

The club was sparse, there were about two or three small groups hanging around and several loners; it meant that Ringo could get a perfectly clear view of the main stage where the one and only George was dancing. Ringo almost didn't recognise him, he was sluggish and slouched with a distant look in his eyes. Was he drunk? Ringo watched him from the bar, hopefully shrouded in the relative darkness, trying to figure out what was going on. John followed his line of sight after ordering his drink and gulped dramatically loud.

"What's gotten into _him_?" John asked "Didn't realise sleeping with you was so deadly."

"I dunno..." Ringo spoke softly, his eyes were fixed on George.

John led the way closer to the stage in his search for Paul, Ringo would really rather stay hidden for now but he didn't have much of a choice. As he got closer, Ringo could see just how inebriated George was: his eyes were heavy and unfocused, he stumbled a little as he tried to move across the stage. He'd never been drunk before at work, as far as Ringo knew, so why now?

"I'm gonna go check if Paul's in the back." John explained "Just wait for me here, I shouldn't be too long. I'll text you if _something happens_ and you should head home, okay?"

Ringo nodded slowly, he was hardly listening to what John was saying "Sure. "

And so John slid away into the back of the club, Ringo could see him knocking on the staff only door and waiting anxiously. John looked over at him for a moment and made a dramatically anxious face, Ringo let out a small laugh and held up his thumb to encourage him. He wished John was the only thing he had to worry about right now, but lately things hadn't seemed to be going as Ringo wished they had.

There were a few people waving money around at the front of the stage, eager for George to give them a quick lapdance, they didn't seem to notice the change in George's behaviour. Ringo stayed near the back, hesitantly taking a seat and observing as best he could. George was dancing as he usually did, partially clothed with a great deal of hip thrusts, but something was definitely off. Ringo wasn't sure what to do, if he should do anything at all, but sitting there and watching felt wrong somehow. Was he merely no longer so impressive because Ringo had slept with him? He didn't think it was the case, but he couldn't understand why tonight would be the first time George had seemed so strange to him.

At one point George seemed to suddenly notice the money being practically thrown in his direction, what he'd been focusing on before Ringo couldn't tell, so began making his way off the stage as steadily as he could manage. He was wearing heeled boots, nowhere near as high as the ones Ringo had seen him in before, but tall enough that he began to stumble as he tackled the steps. Nobody seemed to care that he was struggling, perhaps the audience were are all far too drunk to even notice themselves. Ringo wasn't though, he still had half his drink left and wasn't planning on finishing it any time soon, not with George in a state like this.

Ringo only seemed to blink, to take his eyes away for less than a second, and George was suddenly falling down onto the floor. Nobody reacted, nobody except Ringo who was out of his seat instantly. Unfortunately he hadn't been quick enough, George fell face first into one of the empty tables and smacked his face off of the hard metal, the noise rang out louder than the thumping music. As he hit the floor, some of the audience let out a pantomime groan yet still remained in their seats. George managed to get himself off of the floor, he didn't seem to realise at first that Ringo had been helping him up to his feet. His nose and lip were bleeding pretty badly, red pouring down his chin and onto the floor. George moved his hand sluggishly to touch his bruised face, looking at the remnants of blood on his fingertips in confusion.

"Is there a first aid kit anywhere?" Ringo asked alarmed.

George nodded, finally turned his head to face Ringo; his movements were so slow that Ringo could see the realisation spreading across his face.

"Ringo..." George slurred, his teeth were painted red "What are you-"

"Don't worry about that, we need to get you fixed up." Ringo tightened his grip around George and began walking the two of them over to the staff room.

George made a quiet noise, Ringo wasn't quite sure what he was trying to say, but the important thing was that he allowed Ringo to lead him away from the stage. The music was still pounding even when the stage was empty, it seemed to signal to a lot of the stragglers that it was time to go home. George limped a little as he walked, Ringo supposed he must've twisted his ankle as he fell or something. 

"You're always... Always coming to my rescue." George mumbled as they approached the door.

"You're always in need of rescuing." Ringo spoke gently, the way you'd speak to an old person who'd lost their hearing "What's the code for the door?"

George turned his head to face the keypad, it rolled heavily on his neck, then he pressed four of the numbers sluggishly and a quiet hum could be heard which signified the door being unlocked. George then rested almost all of his weight on Ringo, his head falling to the side, luckily he wasn't too heavy. Ringo had to kick the door open with his foot, it was extremely awkward to do with such an unexpected burden, but he managed it. 

"Jesus Christ!" A voice called out as the door violently opened, it was Paul.

Ringo had almost forgotten that John had even come back here, and judging by the surprised look on John's face he'd forgotten all about Ringo too. John's poem was spread open on the countertop, facing towards where Paul was sitting. The two of them moved erratically when the door opened, but Ringo was certain he caught a glimpse of a heated kiss; the redness of their lips was enough of a giveaway. Ringo managed to get George into the room and down onto one of the benches, the heavy door swung closed and locked behind them. He wished he'd be able to relish this moment of victory for John, but there were more important things to be dealt with.

"What happened?" Paul practically jumped out of his seat and over to George, who sat slumped against the wall with blood still dripping down his face.

"He fell." Ringo explained, letting out a huff of air as he caught his breath "Why's he so pissed? Who let him go out there like that?"

Paul looked over a John with wide eyes then turned back to Ringo "I tried to get him to stop drinking, but there's only so much I can do."

"Suppose it doesn't really matter now. Do you have a first aid kit at least?" Ringo asked, both his face and voice were hard.

Paul nodded then began rooting around under the counter, while he did so Ringo and John shared a knowing look: Ringo raised his eyebrows inquisitively, and John winked in response. That was all he needed to know for now. Paul pulled out a rather heavy first aid kit and opened it desperately, but before he could begin looking for anything, Ringo gently pushed him out of the way.

"Can you get him some water? I'll deal with this." Ringo demonstrated his words by picking up some antiseptic wipes and plasters.

Paul nodded again then headed over to the small sink in the corner, finding a relatively clean mug from the overhead cupboard and filling it with water.

"Can I help at all?" John asked but remained comfortably seated.

"Don't think so." Ringo sighed as he sat down beside George who had begun falling asleep or slipping unconscious, it was difficult to tell "Are you alright George?"

George groaned in response "Why does my face feel like shit?"

"Looks like shit too." Paul commented as he tried to pass the water over to George, but he didn't even seem to notice it "You need to drink some water, George."

"Piss off." George almost whispered, Paul screwed his face up slightly in annoyance but didn't let it deter him from his mission, he pressed the mug against his lips and waited for them to open, which they eventually did, then he gently poured water into his mouth.

George drank almost the entire mug, Ringo didn't suppose he was entirely aware of what he was doing, then let out another groan "Tastes like blood."

"That'd be the blood." John quipped from the other side of the room.

Paul retreated back over to the sink to fill the mug up again, while he did so Ringo opened up the wipes and began cleaning up George's face as best he could. George struggled against the contact for a while but eventually gave in, his eyes were closed the entire time.

"Why are you so pissed, George?" Ringo asked in a hushed tone, gently wiping around his nose.

"He didn't show up." George mumbled almost unintelligibly.

Ringo paused "Who didn't?"

"Ringo." George answered, Ringo almost wanted to laugh at how unaware he was.

"Fucking hell." John laughed as Paul returned with more water, he shot John a glance of warning.

"Drink." Paul demanded softly, pressing the mug against his lips once more.

George obliged but only drank about half, then pushed it away aggressively and spilled some water onto the floor "I'm _fine_." He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut even harder.

"You don't _look_ fine." John called out once more.

"Or _sound_ fine." Paul agreed "What's gotten into you?"

George rolled his head to the side and moaned again "Why didn't he come?"

Paul looked at Ringo anxiously, it told him all he needed to know about what had happened that night. It looked like George had wanted Ringo there after all, not only that but he gravely missed his presence so immensely that he drank himself almost to sleep. Just when Ringo thought he was getting George all figured out, something like _this_ would happen. He wasn't quite sure what to do in this situation, was it better for him to be there at all? Ringo had managed to get rid of most of the blood on his face at least, it looked like most of the bleeding had fortunately stopped. He opened up a plaster and tentatively pressed it against the cut on George's nose, he almost felt like shivering when his fingers brushed against the skin.

George struggled again when he felt Ringo's fingers "Paul, stop..." He scrunched his eyes up tightly, trying to move his body away but evidently he didn't feel able to, then he opened his eyes to protest further but the words died in his mouth.

Ringo saw realisation spreading across George's face for a second time, but he had a feeling this time would be a little more permanent. George's face softened almost immediately, his mouth was hanging open as though he were still about to speak. Ringo could even tell that he'd been crying, when or how much was impossible to see, but knowing that he'd cried at some point tonight was enough.

"Ringo..." George breathed out "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you." Ringo replied with a sweet smile "I would've come sooner if I'd have known you'd get like this."

George turned his head slightly to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror, it was only now that he realised the state he was in "What happened to me?"

"You fell coming off the stage." Ringo explained, he inspected George's face for anything else in need of care.

"Shit." George almost laughed, but it didn't come out properly "What time is it?"

"Nearly closing." Paul answered, he'd sat back down opposite John again "You're lucky we're so empty or you'd be in deep shit."

"Don't you start on me Paul." George furrowed his brows, but it was hard for him to look intimidating while he was swaying slightly as he sat "You're always going over your break time to talk to what's-his-face, and I don't say _shit_."

"Allow me to introduce myself." John announced "John What's-His-Face, a pleasure to meet you."

All three of them laughed, Ringo louder than anyone, George had only just noticed John's presence.

"What matters is that you're alright, George. Everybody just calm down, it looks like it's been a long night." Ringo tried to clear the energy of the room. 

"You're telling me." George sighed, resting his head against the wall.

John stood up rather abruptly "I'm going for a smoke, care to join me Paul?"

Paul got up out of his seat too "Please."

John led the way to the fire exit at the back of the room, holding it open for Paul to walk past him first. Ringo let out a chuckle at the sight of the two of them conspicuously hurrying away together. He figured he must've interrupted some pretty important stuff, that they evidently were eager to continue. The door slammed shut behind them and silence followed, George had closed his eyes once again and Ringo was just staring at him cautiously.

"What's going on, George?" Ringo asked, quietly as though the two outside could still hear them.

George let out a pained chuckle "Fuck if I know."

Ringo paused, tightening his lips, somewhat frustrated "Did you get like this because I didn't come earlier?"

George let out a heavy sigh "If I said no, would you believe me?"

"No, I wouldn't." Ringo answered gently.

"Then yes, I did. I thought you weren't coming, so I had a few drinks." George explained, his eyes still closed "A few turned into a lot which turned into me falling over like a prat."

"But... _Why_?" Ringo asked "I'm not here for one night and you drink yourself stupid?"

George sighed again, then tilted his head to the side and opened his eyes slowly so that he was looking directly at Ringo "I thought you wouldn't come back _at all_. Why would you? I don't even know why you're still sitting here after seeing me like this."

Ringo tutted "You're impossible, do you know that?" 

"So I've been told." George attempted a grin, but the movement of his lips pained him and he hissed. 

"I told you I wanted to see you again, and I _meant_ it." Ringo began somewhat intensely "You need to get it out of your head that I'm going anywhere; as long as you want me here, I'll _be_ here."

George's brows knitted together sadly "I just don't know if I can risk it. Not again." 

Ringo placed his hand over George's, it was scuffed up slightly from the fall "What's the risk? Seems like being with me is the safer option, if I'm honest, _far_ safer than almost breaking your neck on stage like that at least." 

George chuckled "You might be the nicest guy I've ever met. What could you possibly see in a git like me?" 

Ringo squeezed George's hand "Well _right now_ I see an idiot with a bloody nose; I see someone who's in desperate need of some sleep." 

"You might be right there." George sighed "I'm _so_ sorry, I didn't mean for tonight to go like this." 

"Neither did I, yet here we both are." Ringo smiled "Come on, I'll drive you home." 

Ringo stood up and extended his hand out to George, who looked at him somewhat cautiously. 

"There you go being _nice_ again, do you know how hard it is to hate you?" George accepted the hand and pulled himself up. 

"I could say the same to you." Ringo let go of his hand after a while "I'll just go and see whether John wants a ride home." 

"I'd be careful interrupting those two, never know what you're gonna walk in on." George warned, but it only made Ringo's smile wider. 

Ringo opened the door far slower than he had before, giving John and Paul enough time to pull away from one another before he was fully outside. He pretended that he hadn't seen anything, even the hickey beginning to form on Paul's neck. 

"I'm gonna drive George home. Are you coming John?" Ringo stood against the door, he knew he wasn't going to be out here long. 

John paused and looked over to Paul, who shook his head as discreetly as he could manage. The two of them looked like a deer in headlights, their eyes wide and their mouths slightly open.

"No, no, I'm good." John answered suspiciously slow "You go on without me." 

Ringo smiled knowingly at them "Sure thing. Let me know when you get home safe." 

"Will do." John replied before Ringo slipped back into the warmth of the room. 

George had thrown on his coat and was currently looking at himself closely in the mirror, inspecting the cut in his mouth from where his teeth had cut the flesh when he fell. When he noticed Ringo had returned, he pulled away quickly and flashed him an innocent smile. 

"You ready?" Ringo asked as he stepped further into the room "You better not be sick in my car." 

"I can't make any promises." George continued to smile drunkenly. 

Ringo rolled his eyes playfully "Can you walk alright on your own?" 

"I wouldn't say no to some extra support." George walked over to Ringo's side, exaggerating his limp as he did. 

"I don't think this is gonna make it any easier to hate me." Ringo suggested as they made their way to the door. 

George paused for a moment then tightened his grip around Ringo's arm "I think I might have to give up on that." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for reading! im sorry that this story will be coming to an end soon but im thinking of writing a sequel at some point maybe when the Christmas holiday starts so ill have loads of free time
> 
> i hope you all enjoyed ❤️ thanks so so much for all your lovely words they really do make me so very happy!
> 
> also im uploading this at 10:30 am after having 8 hours sleep so ive officially fixed my sleeping pattern all thanks to my boyfriend (but mostly thanks to the builders next door who wake me up at 8am every day)
> 
> as always im sending you all love and happiness ❤️ please stay safe and keep yourself busy as best you can! id love to hear how your countrys dealt with the pandemic since mine has fucked it up so awfully :/


	16. Intimacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ringo takes George back to his place.

George appeared to have sobered up considerably since Ringo had first seen him tonight, seeing the damage of his face and realising Ringo had come to his rescue seemed to play a large part in that. Despite this, he still linked his arm in Ringo's as they walked over to the car, occasionally resting his head on Ringo's shoulder. They didn't talk as they headed out of the club, Ringo's mind was flooded with thoughts and he was certain George's was almost numb with intoxication. He was trying not to read too much into things, as usual, to focus on just getting George home safe because it was the right thing to do, it didn't have to _mean_ anything.

Ringo started up the car then looked over at George, who was staring straight ahead. It took a while for him to realise Ringo was even looking at him, but eventually he did. 

"What?" George asked a little accusingly.

"I don't know where you live." Ringo explained, his hands gripping the wheel.

"Oh..." George pondered for a moment "Can we not just go to yours?"

Ringo raised an eyebrow at him "You really don't want me knowing where you live, do you?"

"Not yet." George responded simply, it was a good enough answer for Ringo.

"Alright then." Ringo began driving the car back in the direction of his flat "You can sleep in my bed, I'll take the sofa."

George scoffed "Seriously? You literally came in my arse this morning, but you can't share a bed with me?"

Ringo felt his face heating up "No, it's not that. I-I just didn't want to give you the wrong idea, like I was gonna take advantage of you or something."

"I wish you _would_." George chuckled "Always the gentleman, aren't you?"

Just exactly how not wanting to take advantage of a drunk person made him a gentleman, Ringo wasn't quite sure, but it was just another piece of the puzzle of the complexity of George's mind.

"Looks like Paul and John were _getting on_ tonight." George continued "What's the deal with that?"

"Haven't the faintest." Ringo smiled "John's liked him for a while, I think."

"No shit." George laughed "You know he _never_ gets a dance from anyone else? If Paul isn't working on the night he just orders some drinks then goes home."

Ringo's smile widened, he wasn't entirely conscious of it "Well I've never gotten a dance from anyone but you."

George was silent for a few seconds "Really?"

Ringo nodded "Did you not know that?"

More silence. 

"I guess I hadn't really considered it." George mumbled.

Neither of them spoke as they drove down the lamp-lit streets, they were mostly empty spare a few drunken individuals staggering home. George stared out of the window by his side the entire time, Ringo tried not to think much of it. When Ringo eventually parked the car, George shuddered a little and Ringo supposed he must've fallen asleep. He looked around outside the window slightly alarmed, as though he'd forgotten where they were going. 

"You okay?" Ringo asked as he undid his seat belt "If you don't wanna come in, I can just order you an Uber."

George looked over at him with a smile, the plaster on his nose made him look slightly childish "Don't be ridiculous. I'm not gonna miss an opportunity to drink more of your tea, am I?"

Ringo chuckled quietly, then slid out of the car back into the cold air; he hurried over to the opposite side to open the door for George, worried he might still be in great pain. George looked at him confused when Ringo opened his door, the expression intensified when Ringo offered his arm out for George to hold. Was he ever going to get used to Ringo being nice to him? It made Ringo seriously question the type of guys George had previously dated, he could only assume they weren't the most considerate people. Ringo guided George up to his flat, linking arms with him all the way until they got to his sofa, which George lazily flopped down onto.

"You want a drink?" Ringo asked as he headed to the kitchen "I think I've got some leftovers if you're hungry."

"I'd _love_ a drink, but something tells me you're not offering any alcohol." George called after him, there was no door separating the living room from the kitchen so they could still see one another.

Ringo came back into the room with two glasses of ice water "Even if I didn't already think you've had enough, I don't keep alcohol in my house anyway."

George accepted the glass happily, although it was clear he was hoping for something far stronger "Why not?"

Ringo sat down beside him on the sofa, not on the opposite end because he didn't want to seem rude - and he very much wanted to sit next to George - but not overly close either.

"Let's just say I don't have the best relationship with alcohol." Ringo took a sip of water after his words "No alcohol in the house means less drinking in the house."

"What about going out and drinking? You seem to do that a lot." George made himself comfortable, kicking off his shoes and curling up on the sofa. 

"Let's just say I'm still working on it." Ringo copied his actions "But I'm not about to take criticism from someone who just fell arse over tit because they drank too much." 

"Watching my arse were you?" George flashed his signature grin. 

"No, funnily enough I was watching the blood pouring out of your face." Ringo responded with a smile of his own. 

George paused for a moment, the smile vanishing from his face "Was it bad? Like were there a lot of people watching?" 

Ringo put down his glass on the coffee table in front of him "Well it wasn't _good_. But I think everyone was too pissed to really notice, I was surprised nobody tried to help you." 

"Nobody but you." George amended, he shifted on the sofa and turned so he was fully facing Ringo, then slid his legs over Ringo's lap. 

Ringo lifted his arms slightly so that George's legs could spread across him. He knew George wouldn't have been acting so comfortable if he wasn't so drunk, but he enjoyed the gesture anyway. Ringo could see the sleepiness on his face, the way his arms were curled up across his chest and his lids fluttered heavily. Ringo wasn't quite sure what to do with his hands, he rested one on George's bony knee and the other higher up on his thigh. 

"You look ready to pass out." Ringo began to whisper. 

"Mmm." Was all George said in response. 

"Let's get you into a bed then, can't have you sleeping on the sofa." Ringo announced, tapping his hands on George's legs gently. 

George had scrunched his eyes closed "Don't wanna move. Carry me." He whined, lifting up his arms to further his demand. 

Ringo let out a huff of air, he'd dealt with a similar situation a plethora of times when John would get too drunk then collapse onto his sofa; sometimes Ringo would just leave him there, not without getting a glass of water and moving the bin closer of course. He gently peeled George's legs off of his lap then shifted off the sofa, lifting him was considerably easy and he couldn't help worrying about why he was so underweight. George fell into Ringo comfortably, resting his head on his shoulder as they passed into the bedroom; with his eyes shut and a small smile on his face, Ringo struggled to remember why he'd ever found him intimidating. Ringo lowered him onto the bed gently, lifting the sheets up so that he could slip underneath comfortably. 

"I've got some pyjamas if you want them." Ringo spoke softly now. 

George rolled over with a low groan "I don't need them. I sleep naked." 

" _Oh_." Ringo paused for a few moments, staring over at George who had his back turned "I best leave you to sleep then."

George groaned again, turning onto his back "Just get in the bed, Ringo. Don't be daft."

Ringo took a couple steps closer "I really don't mind sleeping on the sofa."

"Well I _do_ mind." George opened his eyes wide "What are you waiting for?"

Ringo paused for a moment "I sleep naked too."

George let out a loud cackle at this but said nothing else, he just sat up and began stripping off his clothes; Ringo half expected him to put on a mini-show, he had never seen George take off his clothes so normally. As soon as George was fully naked, he pulled the bed sheets off of himself to make room for Ringo who was still looking at him lost.

"Well?" George asked with a raised eyebrow, and Ringo was moving immediately.

Ringo practically jumped out of his clothes and into the bed, he only stilled when he felt George's hand caressing his face.

"I'm not gonna sleep with you." Ringo said plainly.

George pulled his hand back slightly "Why not? You sick of me already?"

Ringo chuckled "Of course not. But you're _far_ too drunk, _and_ injured." He shifted in the bed to get comfortable, pulling the duvet over his bare chest.

"You're unreal." George murmured, his eyes glancing away.

"In a good way or a bad way?" Ringo asked, he placed his own hand over George's.

"Ask me again in the morning." George punctuated his sentence with a quick peck on the lips, then he turned his back to Ringo and settled into the bed.

A small smile grew on Ringo's face as he watched George adjusting, yet another surprising end to a night that Ringo never could have predicted; the only thing predictable about George seemed to be his unpredictability. Ringo watched him for a while, as he descended into sleep, his breath slowing gradually; it was the most intimate moment they'd shared so far, and he was determined to savour it because he had an awful feeling that in the morning things would change for the worse. He tried to quell the negative thoughts by curling up to George, he didn't cuddle him as tightly as he certainly wanted to, rather he threw a loose arm around him and curled his legs up slightly. 

Ringo didn't take too long to fall asleep, but considerably longer than George who essentially passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow. The morning seemed to come instantly, rays of sunlight peeping through the thin curtains. He awoke slowly but gently, the noise of the street below his window was unappealing to some but Ringo preferred waking up the noise of bustling life. Before he opened his eyes, he rolled over to stretch his legs somewhat but was unnerved by the expanse of space beside him. Where was George? His eyes shot open, revealing the emptiness awaiting him. Did he really just get up and leave? Ringo stretched out on the double mattress, letting out a heavy huff. It wasn't too surprising, Ringo supposed, George must have been pretty embarrassed about last night so fled as soon as he could. 

The most enticing choice was to stay in bed for the rest of the morning, but that would only make the whole situation feel a lot worse. He let out a groan as he turned himself out of bed, stretching his arms behind him. Waking up alone was beyond normal for Ringo by this point, but this instance felt like the very first time and it _hurt_. Ringo managed to drag himself out of bed, he lazily threw on a dressing gown and slumped over to the kitchen. His eyes were still droopy as he felt the cold tiles beneath his feet, he rubbed them both vigorously and let out a stifled yawn.

"Good morning." A voice spoke out gently, making Ringo jump backwards slightly "What's so surprising? Did you forget I was here?"

Ringo smiled anxiously "I thought you'd gone."

George was stood in just his boxers with two mugs in his hands, a confused expression on his face. The plaster was still across the bridge of his nose, bloody and slightly curling at the edges, his face was still pretty bruised but he looked considerably better.

"Of course not." George smiled sweetly then held one of the mugs out to Ringo "I had to return the favour."

Ringo accepted it thankfully, sliding into the same chair he'd sat in a little less than a day ago. George sat opposite him once more, he hissed a little at the coldness of the chair across his skin. 

"What a difference a day makes." Ringo sang lazily, making George snicker. 

"I'm away from you for a whole day and I have a near-death experience." George was still smiling.

"I don't think it was quite _that_ bad." Ringo said after taking a sip of his tea "But if it makes me look more heroic then _yes_ , near-death sounds right."

"That's twice you've saved me now." George sipped his drink too "You'll have to think of some way I can repay you."

George slid his foot across to Ringo's under the table, brushing against his bare ankle. Ringo almost dropped his mug at the sudden contact, George's skin was frightfully cold. When he looked up at George, his eyes were dark and slightly squinted with his lips curled upwards. Ringo gulped hard, his mouth suddenly dry despite the drink in front of him.

"How about you let me take you out?" Ringo asked, practically squeaked.

George paused, his foot stilling in place "Really?"

"Yeah..." Ringo smiled widely "If you don't want to-"

"That's fine." George completed "I'm gonna have to start counting the amount of times you say that." He pulled his foot back but was smiling "Tonight might be a good place to start."

Ringo felt himself relax immediately, he hadn't even realised he'd been tense "Great." Was all he could manage to say.

"I'll have to head home to shower and things." George drank his tea almost desperately, emptying the mug.

"Oh, you can shower here-" Ringo began. 

"If you like." George interrupted "Honestly your politeness is like a catchphrase." 

Ringo chuckled "Sorry... I do mean it though."

"No, no, if we're gonna go for a proper date we're gonna do it _properly_." George stood up slowly from the table, discarding his almost empty mug "So you'll have to pick me up and everything."

Ringo blinked at him dumbfounded "Pick you up? Like from your house?"

George laughed, his voice was a little husky from only having just woken up "Funnily enough I don't _live_ in the strip club."

Ringo laughed too, a little nervously "I _know_. I just thought you had a thing about-"

"Never mind all that." George said abruptly "Pick me up at 7, alright?" He looked at Ringo with wide eyes, awaiting confirmation. 

"Alright." Ringo spoke finally, a small smile on his face.

George mirrored his smile " _Alright_. Well I'm gonna head back to mine and get dressed, I'll text you my address."

"I don't have your number." Ringo stood up.

"Oh... I'll write it down for you." George began walking out of the kitchen backwards, keeping eye contact with Ringo "Let me just get some clothes on." He retreated back into Ringo's bedroom with a wink, shutting the door behind him.

As soon as Ringo was alone, he felt the stupidest grin growing on his face. George was going out with him; _properly_ this time, no strange circumstances surrounding them or unspoken tension. Just like two ordinary people. Maybe _ordinary_ wasn't the right word, considering how they met and even what led to this date being set up in the first place, but it was the closest thing to normality Ringo expected they'd be able to achieve.

George didn't take too long getting dressed, Ringo suspected he was just as skilled putting his clothes on as he was taking them off. Even with his battered face and ruffled bedhead, Ringo still thought he looked breathtaking. George approached Ringo rather sultry, his hips swaying and a sly grin on his lips. 

"Here you go." George passed on a piece of paper over to Ringo, who accepted it hastily and shoved it into the pocket of his dressing gown "Now I best be off, before you get sick of seeing me."

"I wouldn't count on that happening any time soon." Ringo smiled and placed his hand on George's face, he half expected him to flinch away but he didn't.

"Suppose I can give you a preview of tonight." George moved in closer, sliding his hands over Ringo's hips and pressing their lips together.

Ringo hummed happily against the contact, moving his other hand to the back of George's neck. It wasn't the most pleasant kiss, neither of them had brushed their teeth and the taste of the tea was only making it worse. But Ringo didn't care, kissing George was always a joy to him. Before it got too heated, George pulled away and immediately pressed a finger to his lips - Ringo hadn't considered how much it must still be hurting.

"Seven o'clock." George said with a grin, pulling away further.

"Seven o'clock." Ringo repeated with a smile, following George over to the door.

They didn't say anything else, Ringo just unlocked the door and George departed with a wave. Ringo watched as he walked away, and even though George didn't look back Ringo knew he knew that he was looking. Then Ringo reluctantly closed the door, letting out another heavy breath but for the exact opposite reason that he had done when he'd first awoken.

Ringo's first instinct, as it often was when anything major happened in his life, was to grab his phone and text John an update. It took a while to find his phone, he couldn't quite remember when or where he discarded it.

**y** **ou up yet?**

_does it count as being up if I havent slept??_

**guess I dont have to ask you how your night went**

_no you dont_  
_but ask anyway_

**howd your night go?**

_fucking fantastic_  
_with emphasis on the fucking_

**very romantic**

_oh it was believe me_

**Paul liked the poem then?**

_very much so_  
_he made sure to tell me_  
_and show me_  
_repeatedly_

**im very happy for you**

_why thank you_  
_howd your night go???_

**nothing too exciting the morning was better**  
**me and George are going on a date tonight**

_tonight??? thats amazing_  
_look at us_

**i know isnt it mad**

_gives me a brilliant idea for my next book_

**oh yeah?**

_ill call it Me, My Best Friend and Our Stripper Boyfriends_

**very family friendly**

_my speciality_

**id get back to the drawing board with that one**

_what do you mean_

**who in their right mind would want to read a book about that**

_youd be surprised_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END i know its not a super conclusive ending but i do plan on writing a sequel at some point i just know that i won't be able to write too much atm and i dont wanna leave a fic unfinished
> 
> thank you all so so so much for reading! i never expected any of my works to get much attention so to read all your lovely comments just fills me with joy :)
> 
> for the final time i hope youre all keeping as well as you possibly can ❤️ amidst all this craziness your happiness and health are the most important things! so make sure you're taking care of yourself and those around you
> 
> thanks again for reading my silly ramblings its been super fun finally writing again ill try not to vanish for several years like i did last time!
> 
> for those interested my tumblr is also mithranqueer 👀


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